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[–] 6 points 8 months ago (2 children)

sun-dappled, happiness-brimming days outdoors

And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

-Yeats

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  • [–] 3 points 8 months ago (1 child)

    I am hopelessly fond of the romantics my self. Thanks for reminding me

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  • [–] 4 points 8 months ago*

    Yeats has just got a sound, man. Some of his phrasing is so hauntingly lonely, but there's a hint of hope.

    eg

    all disheveled wandering stars

    live alone in the bee-loud glade

    She stood in desperate music wound

    The fury and the mire of human veins

    etc

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