The unpurged images of day recede; The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed; Night resonance recedes, night-walkers' song After great cathedral gong.
William Butler YeatsO heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head You'd know the folly of being comforted.
William Butler YeatsThe creations of a great writer are little more than the moods and passions of his own heart, given surnames and Christian names, and sent to walk the earth.
William Butler Yeats