First Love

Though nurtured like the sailing moon
in beauty's murderous brood,
she walked awhile and blushed awhile
and on my pathway stood
Until I thought her body bore
A heart of flesh and blood.

But since I laid a hand thereon
And found a heart of stone
I have attempted many things
and not a thing is done,
For every hand is lunatic
That travels on the moon.

She smiled and that transfigured me
And left me but a lout,
Maundering here, and maundering there,
Emptier of thought
That the heavenly circus of stars
when the moon sails out.

William Butler Yeats "A Man Young and Old: I, First Love"