Friday, March 20, 2009

Poetry Friday: The Folly of Being Comforted

by 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
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."

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



To learn more about this beautifully romantic poem, here is a good essay on Yeats and his unrequited love.

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