A Crazed Girl O you maid of the mountain I’ve seen in the shroud, As I stood by the river and called to you loud, Like a fish you leapt as I murmured in heat, And flowed with the flow of the swift rivers’ beat.
What knows you that I know not, though I weep? Your laughter like a flower in my breast will keep, Like sunlight breaking into a new day, In the rush of the morning and the dew’s soft play.
- William Butler Yeats