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 seem impossible,and so Patience is all that you have need of.'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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