Page:The Wild Swans at Coole.djvu/75



is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath When you are passing; But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing Because it was your prayer Recovered him upon the bed of death. For your sole sake—that all heart's ache have known, And given to others all heart's ache, From meagre girlhood's putting on Burdensome beauty—for your sole sake Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom,