A Man Young And Old:- Human Dignity
By William Butler Yeats
Like the moon her kindness is,
If kindness I may call
What has no comprehension int,
But is the same for all
As though my sorrow were a scene
Upon a painted wall.
So like a bit of stone I lie
Under a broken tree.
I could recover if I shrieked
My hearts agony
To passing bird, but I am dumb
From human dignity.