Quote:

A favorite line of mine from the wonderful poetry of W.B.Yeats

And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
_______________________________ The Song of the Wandering Aengus 1899



Yes, Yeats is wonderful! I like
Gyring, spiring to and fro/in those great ignorant leafy ways

from
"The Two Trees"

and
Had I but raised my bridle hand, as I have held it low,
the little jackals that flee so fast were feasting all in a row.
Had I but bowed my head on my breast, as I have held it high,
the kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she could not fly.

Kipling, of course, "The Ballad of East and West"

and, ibid

The dun he leaned against the rein and slugged his head above,
but the red mare played with the snaffle-bars like a maiden plays with a glove.