YOU waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play, <br />Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart; <br />In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay, <br />When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart. <br />The herring are not in the tides as they were of old; <br />My sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the-cart <br />That carried the take to Sligo town to be sold, <br />When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart. <br />And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his oar <br />Is heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart, <br />Who paced in the eve by the nets on the pebbly shore, <br />When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-meditation-of-the-old-fisherman/
