ALTHOUGH I shelter from the rain <br />Under a broken tree, <br />My chair was nearest to the fire <br />In every company <br />That talked of love or politics, <br />Ere Time transfigured me. <br />Though lads are making pikes again <br />For some conspiracy, <br />And crazy rascals rage their fill <br />At human tyranny, <br />My contemplations are of Time <br />That has transfigured me. <br />There's not a woman turns her face <br />Upon a broken tree, <br />And yet the beauties that I loved <br />Are in my memory; <br />I spit into the face of Time <br />That has transfigured me.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lamentation-of-the-old-pensioner/
