bohemija
04 November 2013 @ 09:56 pm
TO A YOUNG GIRL  
My dear, my dear, I know
More than another
What makes your heart beat so;
Not even your own mother
Can know it as I know,
Who broke my heart for her
When the wild thought,
That she denies
And has forgot,
Set all her blood astir
And glittered in her eyes.


W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)