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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

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

Patience is all that you have need of.' 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 but turn her head,

You'd know the folly of being comforted.