And God, the herdsman, goads them on behind.
When two close kindred meet What better than call a dance?.
There is only one romance the Soul's.
I have read somewhere that in the Emperor's palace at Byzantium was a tree made of gold and silver, and artificial birds that sang.
The mystical life is at the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write.
I am content to live it all again And yet again, if it be life to pitch Into the frog-spawn of a blind man's ditch.