The Wicked Hawthorn Tree by William Butler Yeats

O, but I saw a solemn sight;
Said the rambling, shambling traveling-man;
Castle Dargan’s ruin all lit,
Lovely ladies dancing in it.

What though they danced! Those days are gone,
Said the wicked, crooked hawthorn tree;
Lovely lady or gallant man
Are blown cold dust or a bit of bone.

O, what is life but a mouthful of air?
Said the rambling, shambling traveling-man;
Yet all the lovely things that were
Live, for I saw them dancing there.

Nobody knows what may befall
Said the wicked, crooked, hawthorn tree.
I have stood so long by the gap in the wall
Maybe I shall not die at all.