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W.B. Yeats

Ephemera ‘Your eyes that once were never weary of mineAre bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,Because our love is waning.’ And then she:‘Although our love is waning, let us standBy the long border of the lake once more,Together in that hour of gentlenessWhen the poor tired child, Passion, falls asleep:How far away the stars seem,… Continue reading W.B. Yeats

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W.B. Yeats

I know that I shall meet my fate / Somewhere among the clouds above; / Those that I fight I do not hate / Those that I guard I do not love. ― W.B. Yeats, from “An Irish Airman Foresees His Death,” Macmillan edition of The Wild Swans at Coole (1918/1919)

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