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The Folly of being Comforted
| One that is ever kind said yesterday: | | ‘Your well-belovèd’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. |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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