I heard the old, old, men say 'all that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters.'
William Butler YeatsLife moves out of a red flare of dreams Into a common light of common hours, Until old age brings the red flare again.
William Butler YeatsMy temptation is quiet. Here at life's end Neither loose imagination Nor the mill of the mind Consuming its rag and bone, Can make the truth known.
William Butler YeatsNow I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
William Butler Yeats