In dreams begins responsibility.
By logic and reason we die hourly; by imagination we live.
All the wild-witches, those most notable ladies For all their broom-sticks and their tears, Their angry tears, are gone.
For Death who takes what man would keep, Leaves what man would lose.
What can I but enumerate old themes?
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned.