"Turning, he saw that she had thrust dead leaves
Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes,
In bosom and hair.
“Ah, do not mourn,” he said,
“That we are tired, for other loves await us;
“Hate on and love through unrepining hours.
“Before us lies eternity; our souls
“Are love, and a continual farewell."
Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes,
In bosom and hair.
“Ah, do not mourn,” he said,
“That we are tired, for other loves await us;
“Hate on and love through unrepining hours.
“Before us lies eternity; our souls
“Are love, and a continual farewell."
— W. B. Yeats, fragment of ephemera (via sol-psych)








