ONE that is ever kind said yesterday: <br />'Your well-beloved's hair has threads of grey, <br />And little shadows come about her eyes; <br />Time can but make it easier to be wise <br />Though now it seems impossible, and so <br />All that you need is patience.' <br />Heart cries, 'No, <br />I have not a crumb of comfort, not a grain. <br />Time can but make her beauty over again: <br />Because of that great nobleness of hers <br />The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs, <br />Burns but more clearly. O she had not these ways <br />When all the wild Summer was in her gaze.' <br />Heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head, <br />You'd know the folly of being comforted.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-folly-of-being-comforted/
