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.
Quarrel In Old Age
William Butler Yeats
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Poem topics: lonely, spring, fantasy, town, blind, bitter, invent, worth, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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