William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)　　One that is ever kind said yesterday　　'Your well-beloved's hair has threads of grey,　　And little shadows come about her eyes;　　Time can but make it easier to be wise　　Though now it seems impossible, and so　　Patience is all that you have need of.

' No,　　I have not a crumb of comfort, not a grain;　　Time can but make her beauty over again;　　Because of that great nobleness of hers　　The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs　　Burns but more clearly.

O she had not these ways,　　When all the wild summer was in her gaze.

　　O heart!

O heart!

if she'd but turn her head,　　You'd know the folly of being comforted.

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