The Coming of Wisdom with Time
W.B. Yeats
THOUGH leaves are many, the root is one;
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Through all the lying days of my youth
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I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
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Now I may wither into the truth.
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THOUGH leaves are many, the root is one;
| |
Through all the lying days of my youth
| |
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
| |
Now I may wither into the truth.
|
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