Fallen Majesty
By William Butler Yeats
Although crowds gathered once if she but showed her face,
And even old mens eyes grew dim, this hand alone,
Like some last courtier at a gypsy camping place,
Babbling of fallen majesty, records whats gone.
The lineaments, a heart that laughter has made sweet,
These, these remain, but I record whats gone. A crowd
Will gather, and not know it walks the very street
Whereon a thing once walked that seemed a burning cloud.