<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=335996" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sailing to Byzantium</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">That is no country for old men. The young<br>In one another’s arms, birds in the trees<br>—Those dying generations—at their song,<br>The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,<br>Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long<br>Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.<br>Caught in that sensual music all neglect<br>Monuments of unageing intellect.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An aged man is but a paltry thing,<br>A tattered coat upon a stick, unless<br>Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing<br>For every tatter in its mortal dress,<br>Nor is there singing school but studying<br>Monuments of its own magnificence;<br>And therefore I have sailed the seas and come<br>To the holy city of Byzantium.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O sages standing in God’s holy fire<br>As in the gold mosaic of a wall,<br>Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,<br>And be the singing-masters of my soul.<br>Consume my heart away; sick with desire<br>And fastened to a dying animal<br>It knows not what it is; and gather me<br>Into the artifice of eternity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once out of nature I shall never take<br>My bodily form from any natural thing,<br>But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make<br>Of hammered gold and gold enamelling<br>To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;<br>Or set upon a golden bough to sing<br>To lords and ladies of Byzantium<br>Of what is past, or passing, or to come.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Butler+Yeats">William Butler Yeats</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=335996" data-title="Sailing to Byzantium de William Butler Yeats" data-description="That is no country for old men. The young/In one another’s arms, birds in the trees/—Those dying generations—at their song,/The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,/Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long/Whatever is begotten, born..."></div> </div> </div>

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