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Come swish around my pretty punk And keep me dancing still That I may stay a sober man Although I drink my fill.
William Butler Yeats
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William Butler Yeats
Age: 73 †
Born: 1865
Born: June 13
Died: 1939
Died: January 28
Astrologer
Mystic
Playwright
Poet
Politician
Writer
Scrooby
Nottinghamshire
W. B. Yeats
William Yeats
W.B. Yeats
Come
Drink
Swish
Men
Stay
Sober
Pretty
Punk
Keep
Dancer
Around
Fill
Stills
Drinking
Still
Although
May
Dancing
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While on that old grey stone I sat Under the old wind-broken tree, I knew that One is animate, Mankind inanimate phantasy.
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The living can assist the imagination of the dead.
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And there's a score of duchesses, surpassing womankind, Or who have found a painter to make them so for pay And smooth out stain and blemish with the elegance of his mind: I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their day.
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Imagining in excited reverie That the future years had come, Dancing to a frenzied drum, Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.
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People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.
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Only the dead can be forgiven But when I think of that my tongue's a stone.
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And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.
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Nor dread nor hope attend a dying animal a man awaits his end dreading and hoping all.
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I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember, the place is so beautiful. One almost expects the people to sing instead of speaking. It is all like an opera.
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O heart, we are old The living beauty is for younger men: We cannot pay its tribute of wild tears.
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Locke sank into a swoon The Garden died God took the spinning-jenny Out of his side.
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A drunkard is a dead man And all dead men are drunk.
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My wretched dragon is perplexed.
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Both nuns and mothers worship images, But those the candles light are not as those That animate a mother's reveries, But keep a marble or a bronze repose.
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While they danced they came over them the weariness with the world, the melancholy, the pity one for the other, which is the exultation of love.
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My soul had found All happiness in its own cause or ground. Godhead on Godhead in sexual spasm begot Godhead. Some shadow fell. My soul forgot Those amorous cries that out of quiet come And must the common round of day resume.
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Though pedantry denies, It's plain the Bible means That Solomon grew wise While talking with his queens.
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The only enemy of innocence and beauty is time.
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