William Butler Yeats

Poetry Corner

One that is ever kind said yesterday;

"Your well-beloved’s hair has threads of gray,

And little shadows come about her eyes;

Time can but make it easier to be wise

Though now it seem impossible, and so

All that you need is patience."

Heart cries, "No,

I have not a crumb of comfort, not a grain.

Time can but make her beauty over again;

Because of that great nobleness of hers

The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs,

Burns but more clearly. O she had not these ways

When all the wild summer was in her gaze."

O heart! O heart! if she’d turn her head,

You’d know the folly of being comforted.

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