A Man Young And Old:- Human Dignity
by William Butler Yeats
Like the moon her kindness is, If kindness I may call What has no comprehension int, But is the same for all As though my sorrow were a scene Upon a painted wall. So like a bit of stone I lie Under a broken tree. I could recover if I shrieked My hearts agony To passing bird, but I am dumb From human dignity.
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Return to the William Butler Yeats Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; A Man Young And Old:- Summer And Spring
