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.
William Butler YeatsConsume my heart away, sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is, and gather me Into the artifice of eternity.
William Butler YeatsAll hatred driven hence, The soul recovers radical innocence And learns at last that it is self-delighting, Self-appeasing, self-affrighting, And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will
William Butler Yeats