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— William Butler Yeats"O heart, we are old; The living beauty is for younger men: We cannot pay its tribute of wild tears."
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When a man grows old his joy Grows more deep day after day, His empty heart is full at length But he has need of all that strength Because of the increasing Night That opens her mystery and fright.
— William Butler Yeats
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I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow; And then I must scrub and bake and sweep Till the stars are beginning to blink and peep; And the young lie long and dream in their bed.
— William Butler Yeats
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