One that is ever kind said yesterday:'Your well-beloved's hair has threads of grey, And little shadows come about her eyes; Time can but make it easier to be wise. Though now it seems 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.' Heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head, You'd know the folly of being comforted!
William Butler YeatsAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: irish
- Born: June 13, 1865
- Died: January 28, 1939