One That Is Ever Kind Said Yesterday: "Your Well-Beloved'S Hair Has Threads Of Grey, And Little Shadows Come About Her Eyes; Time Can But Make It Easier To Be Wise Though Now It Seems Impossible, And So All That You Need Is Patience." Heart Cries, "No, I Have Not A Crumb Of Comfort, Not A Grain. Time Can But Make Her Beauty Over Again: Because Of That Great Nobleness Of Hers The Fire That Stirs About Her, When She Stirs, Burns But More Clearly. O She Had Not These Ways When All The Wild Summer Was In Her Gaze." Heart! O Heart! If She'd But Turn Her Head, You'd Know The Folly Of Being Comforted.