The Fisherman

Although I am a poet, I still have my eyes on the sea, With the scent of the salt on the breeze, And the echoes of the depths awakened by me.

The fisherman, bent on his task, Sings a tune known to those of old; While the gentle waves rock my dreams, And the kingdom of nature unfolds.

And though I am old with the years, Time has no hold on the thoughts I keep; The beauty of nature in each wave’s rise, Is a promise, a wonder, even in sleep.

• William Butler Yeats