Yeats [by George Charles Beresford, 1911]
The Folly of Being Comforted
by William Butler Yeats
from In the Seven Woods (1904)
`Your well-belovéd’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
All that you need is patience.’
Heart cries, `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.
* * * * *
To read more Yeats in the Online Library, please click here.