More Yeats, with apologies to all the Witches I know

The Witch

Toil and grow rich,
What's that but to lie
With a foul witch
And after, drained dry,
To be brought
To the chamber where
Lies one long sought
with despair?


Why Yeats and no me? Well, lately I've found my own thoughts to be beyond tedious, and who wants to sit around writing stuff they think is boring?

Also, I'm reading his collected works right now.