1We sat together at one summer’s end,
2That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
3And you and I, and talked of poetry.
4I said, ‘A line will take us hours maybe;
5Yet if it does not seem a moment’s thought,
6Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
7Better go down upon your marrow-bones
8And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
9Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
10For to articulate sweet sounds together
11Is to work harder than all these, and yet
12Be thought an idler by the noisy set
13Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen
14The martyrs call the world.’
And thereupon
15That beautiful mild woman for whose sake
16There’s many a one shall find out all heartache
17On finding that her voice is sweet and low
18Replied, ‘To be born woman is to know—
19Although they do not talk of it at school—
20That we must labour to be beautiful.’
21I said, ‘It’s certain there is no fine thing
22Since Adam’s fall but needs much labouring.
23There have been lovers who thought love should be
24So much compounded of high courtesy
25That they would sigh and quote with learned looks
26Precedents out of beautiful old books;
27Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.’
28We sat grown quiet at the name of love;
29We saw the last embers of daylight die,
30And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
31A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
32Washed by time’s waters as they rose and fell
33About the stars and broke in days and years.
34I had a thought for no one’s but your ears:
35That you were beautiful, and that I strove
36To love you in the old high way of love;
37That it had all seemed happy, and yet we’d grown
38As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.
1We sat together at one summer’s end,
2That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
3And you and I, and talked of poetry.
4I said, ‘A line will take us hours maybe;
5Yet if it does not seem a moment’s thought,
6Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
7Better go down upon your marrow-bones
8And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
9Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
10For to articulate sweet sounds together
11Is to work harder than all these, and yet
12Be thought an idler by the noisy set
13Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen
14The martyrs call the world.’
And thereupon
15That beautiful mild woman for whose sake
16There’s many a one shall find out all heartache
17On finding that her voice is sweet and low
18Replied, ‘To be born woman is to know—
19Although they do not talk of it at school—
20That we must labour to be beautiful.’
21I said, ‘It’s certain there is no fine thing
22Since Adam’s fall but needs much labouring.
23There have been lovers who thought love should be
24So much compounded of high courtesy
25That they would sigh and quote with learned looks
26Precedents out of beautiful old books;
27Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.’
28We sat grown quiet at the name of love;
29We saw the last embers of daylight die,
30And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
31A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
32Washed by time’s waters as they rose and fell
33About the stars and broke in days and years.
34I had a thought for no one’s but your ears:
35That you were beautiful, and that I strove
36To love you in the old high way of love;
37That it had all seemed happy, and yet we’d grown
38As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.
We sat together at one summer’s end,
That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
And you and I, and talked of poetry.
I said, ‘A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem a moment’s thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
Better go down upon your marrow-bones
And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
For to articulate sweet sounds together
Is to work harder than all these,
and yet
Be thought an idler by the noisy set
Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen
The martyrs call the world.’
And thereupon
That beautiful mild woman for whose sake
There’s many a one shall find out all heartache
On finding that her voice is sweet and low
Replied, ‘To be born woman is to know—
Although they do not talk of it at school—
That we must labour to be beautiful.’
I said, ‘It’s certain there is no fine thing
Since Adam’s fall but needs much labouring.
There have been lovers who thought love should be
So much compounded of high courtesy
That they would sigh and quote with learned looks
Precedents out of beautiful old books;
Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.’
We sat grown quiet at the name of love;
We saw the last embers of daylight die,
And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
Washed by time’s waters as they rose and fell
About the stars and broke in days and years.
I had a thought for no one’s but your ears:
That you were beautiful, and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love;
That it had all seemed happy, and yet we’d grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
The Curse of Adam — Read Genesis 3 (about "Adam's curse" and the expulsion from Eden) in the original Hebrew and in English translation.
A Letter from Gonne to Yeats — Read an ambiguously romantic letter from Maud Gonne (the "you" of "Adam's Curse") to Yeats.
A Reading of the Poem — Listen to "Adam's Curse" read aloud by poet Robert Pinsky.
More on Yeats and Gonne — A New York Times piece about the correspondence and tumultuous relationship between W. B. Yeats and Maud Gonne.
The Poet's Life and Writing — Read a biography of Yeats at the Poetry Foundation.
Paul Muldoon on Yeats — Acclaimed Irish poet Paul Muldoon discusses Yeats's life and works.