Collected Poems, by William Butler Yeats

Quarrel in Old Age

WHERE had her sweetness gone?

What fanatics invent

In this blind bitter town,

Fantasy or incident

Not worth thinking of,

put her in a rage.

I had forgiven enough

That had forgiven old age.

All lives that has lived;

So much is certain;

Old sages were not deceived:

Somewhere beyond the curtain

Of distorting days

Lives that lonely thing

That shone before these eyes

Targeted, trod like Spring.

Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 12:02