FASTEN your hair with a golden pin, <br />And bind up every wandering tress; <br />I bade my heart build these poor rhymes: <br />It worked at them, day out, day in, <br />Building a sorrowful loveliness <br />Out of the battles of old times. <br />You need but lift a pearl-pale hand, <br />And bind up your long hair and sigh; <br />And all men's hearts must burn and beat; <br />And candle-like foam on the dim sand, <br />And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky, <br />Live but to light your passing feet.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/he-gives-his-beloved-certain-rhymes/
