Уильям Батлер Йейтс (William Butler Yeats)

The Pity of Love

  A pity beyond all telling
  Is hid in the heart of love:
  The folk who are buying and selling
  The clouds on their journey above
  The cold wet winds ever blowing
  And the shadowy hazel grove
  Where mouse-gray waters are flowing
  Threaten the head that I love.