Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn,
Come clear of the nets of wrong and right.
Though hope fall from you and love decay,
Come heart, where hill is heaped upon hill;
For there the mystical brotherhood
Of sun and moon and hollow and wood
And river and stream work out their will;
And Time and the world are ever in flight;
And love is less kind than the grey twilight,
And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.

W.B Yeats, Into The Twilight (via whyallcaps)