Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?
Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die.
The falcon cannot hear the falconer
Things thought too long can be no longer thought, For beauty dies of beauty, worth of worth, And ancient lineaments are blotted out.
Accursed who brings to light of day the writings I have cast away.
Now 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?