The visible world is no longer a reality and the unseen world no longer a dream.

Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart. O when may it suffice?

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

Speech after long silence; it is right, All other lovers being estranged or dead . . . That we descant and yet again descant Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song: Bodily decrepitude is wisdom; young We loved each other and were ignorant.

The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood.

All that we did, all that we said or sang must come from contact with the soil.

I think it better that in times like these a poet's mouth be silent, for in truth we have no gift to set a statesman right.