I BRING you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams;
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-gray sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams
I bring you my passionate rhyme.
W. B. Yeats, “A Poet to His Beloved,” The Wind Among the Reeds. (Woodstock Books, 1993) Originally published: 1899.