VACILLATION (iv) (by W. B. Yeats)

Irish poet William Butler Yeats (1865 – 1939), circa 1910. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

My fiftieth year had come and gone,
I sat, a solitary man,
In a crowded London shop,
An open book and empty cup
On the marble table-top.

While on the shop and street I gazed
My body of a sudden blazed;
And twenty minutes more or less
It seemed, so great my happiness,
That I was blessed and could bless.

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POLITICS (by W. B. Yeats)

In our time the destiny of man presents its meaning in political terms.”  (Thomas Mann)

How can I, that girl standing there.
My attention fix
On Roman or on Russian
Or on Spanish politics?

Yet here’s a travelled man that knows
What he talks about,
And there’s a politician
That has read and thought,

And maybe what they say is true
Of war and war’s alarms,
But O that I were young again
And held her in my arms!