William Butler Yeats - Those Dancing Days Are Gone lyrics

Come, let me sing into your ear Those dancing days are gone All the silk and satin gear Crouch upon a stone Wrapping that foul body up In as foul a rag: I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag Curse as you may I sing it through What matter if the knave That the most could pleasure you The children that he gave Are somewhere sleeping like a top Under a marble flag? I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag I thought it out this very day Noon upon the clock A man may put pretence away Who leans upon a stick May sing, and sing until he drop Whether to maid or hag: I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag