A Passage Of Years
Two Years Later
by William Butler Yeats
Has no one said those daring
Kind eyes should be more learn’d?
Or warned you how despairing
The moths are when they are burned?
I could have warned you; but you are young,
So we speak a different tongue.
O you will take whatever’s offered
And dream that all the world’s a friend,
Suffer as your mother suffered,
Be as broken in the end.
But I am old and you are young,
And I speak a barbarous tongue.
“… I only see the years. They come and go
In alternation with the weeds, the field,
“What kind of years?”
“Why, latter years
Different from early years.”
Robert Frost (1874-1963)