" The Wheel

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 , The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats