O THOUGHT, fly to her when the end of day <br />Awakens an old memory, and say, <br />'Your strength, that is so lofty and fierce and kind, <br />It might call up a new age, calling to mind <br />The queens that were imagined long ago, <br />Is but half yours: he kneaded in the dough <br />Through the long years of youth, and who would have thought <br />It all, and more than it all, would come to naught, <br />And that dear words meant nothing?' But enough, <br />For when we have blamed the wind we can blame love; <br />Or, if there needs be more, be nothing said <br />That would be harsh for children that have strayed.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-memory/
