the fool by the roadside

when all works that have
from cradle run to grave
from grave to cradle run instead;
when thoughts that a fool
has wound upon a spool
are but loose thread, are but loose thread;

when cradle and spool are past
and i mere shade at last
coagulate of stuff
transparent like the wind,
i think that i may find
a faithful love, a faithful love.

-wb yeats