THERE is grey in your hair. <br />Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath <br />When you are passing; <br />But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing <br />Because it was your prayer <br />Recovered him upon the bed of death. <br />For your sole sake -- that all heart's ache have known, <br />And given to others all heart's ache, <br />From meagre girlhood's putting on <br />Burdensome beauty -- for your sole sake <br />Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom, <br />So great her portion in that peace you make <br />By merely walking in a room. <br />Your beauty can but leave among us <br />Vague memories, nothing but memories. <br />A young man when the old men are done talking <br />Will say to an old man, 'Tell me of that lady <br />The poet stubborn with his passion sang us <br />When age might well have chilled his blood.' <br />Vague memories, nothing but memories, <br />But in the grave all, all, shall be renewed. <br />The certainty that I shall see that lady <br />Leaning or standing or walking <br />In the first loveliness of womanhood, <br />And with the fervour of my youthful eyes, <br />Has set me muttering like a fool. <br />You are more beautiful than any one, <br />And yet your body had a flaw: <br />Your small hands were not beautiful, <br />And I am afraid that you will run <br />And paddle to the wrist <br />In that mysterious, always brimming lake <br />Where those What have obeyed the holy law <br />paddle and are perfect. Leave unchanged <br />The hands that I have kissed, <br />For old sake's sake. <br />The last stroke of midnight dies. <br />All day in the one chair <br />From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have <br />ranged <br />In rambling talk with an image of air: <br />Vague memories, nothing but memories.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/broken-dreams/
