Dinesh's photos with the keyword: Yeates

Through winter-time we call on spring, And through the spring on summer call, And when abounding hedges ring Declare that winter's best of all; And after that there's nothing good Because the spring-time has not come -- Nor know what disturbs our blood Is but its longing for the tomb.” ― W.B. Yeats

My fiftieth year had come and gone. I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table top. While on the shop and street I gazed My body of a sudden blazed; And twenty minutes more or less It seemed, so great my happiness, That I was blessed and could bless. ~ Yeats