I would be ignorant as the dawn That has looked down On that old queen measuring a town With the pin of a brooch, Or on the withered men that saw From their pedantic Babylon The careless planets in their courses, The stars fade out where the moon comes, And took their tablets and did sums; I would be ignorant as the dawn That merely stood, rocking the glittering coach Above the cloudy shoulders of the horses; I would befor no knowledge is worth a straw Ignorant and wanton as the dawn.
Return to the William Butler Yeats Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; The Dedication To A Book Of Stories