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Hipstamatic - John S, D-Type Plate

He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty

by William Butler Yeats

 

O CLOUD-PALE eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,

The poets labouring all their days

To build a perfect beauty in rhyme

Are overthrown by a woman's gaze

And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:

And therefore my heart will bow, when dew

Is dropping sleep, until God burn time,

Before the unlabouring stars and you.

Hipstamatic; Sergio lens, Love 81 film.

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