William Butler Yeats

(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)

The Folly Of Being Comforted - Poem by William Butler Yeats

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.


Comments about The Folly Of Being Comforted by William Butler Yeats

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: summer, hair, beauty, fire, heart, time



Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 17, 2001



[Hata Bildir]