A Prayer On Going Into My House
GOD grant a blessing on this tower and cottage / And on my heirs, if all remain unspoiled,
The Folly Of Being Comforted
❦
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.
More poems by William Butler Yeats
The White Birds
I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea! / We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;
The Fascination Of What's Difficult
THE fascination of what's difficult / Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
The Mask
'PUT off that mask of burning gold / With emerald eyes.'