All things uncomely and broken, <br />All things worn-out and old, <br />The cry of a child by the roadway, <br />The creak of a lumbering cart, <br />The heavy steps of the ploughman, <br />splashing the wintry mould, <br />Are wronging your image that blossoms <br />A rose in the deeps of my heart. <br />The wrong of unshapely things <br />Is a wrong too great to be told; <br />I hunger to build them anew <br />And sit on a green knoll apart, <br />With the earth and the sky and the water, <br />Remade, like a casket of gold <br />For my dreams of your image that blossoms <br />A rose in the deeps of my heart.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rose-in-the-deeps-of-his-heart/
