And custom for the spreading laurel tree.

~¤Akash¤~

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Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that it is self-delighting,
Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will;
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy Still.

And may her bridegroom bring her to a house
Where all's accustomed, ceremonious;
For arrogance and hatred are the wares
Peddled in the thoroughfares.
How but in custom and in ceremony
Are innocence and beauty born?
Ceremony's a name for the rich horn,
And custom for the spreading laurel tree.

William Butler Yeats





http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/william_butler_yeats/poems/10189# http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/william_butler_yeats/poems/10189# http://www.addthis.com/bookmark.php...ems.com/poets/william_butler_yeats/poems&tt=0 http://www.addthis.com/bookmark.php...ems.com/poets/william_butler_yeats/poems&tt=0 http://www.addthis.com/bookmark.php...ems.com/poets/william_butler_yeats/poems&tt=0 http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/william_butler_yeats/poems/10189# http://www.addthis.com/bookmark.php...ems.com/poets/william_butler_yeats/poems&tt=0
 
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