Quote #120
Come let us mock at the wise; With all those calendars whereon They fixed old aching eyes, They never saw how seasons run, And now but gape at the sun.
More from William Butler Yeats
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- O but we dreamed to mend Whatever mischief seemed To afflict mankind, but now That winds of winter blow Learn that we were crack-pated when…
- Mock mockers after that That would not lift a hand maybe To help good, wise or great To bar that foul storm out, for we Traffic in mockery.
- But is there any comfort to be found? Man is in love and loves what vanishes, What more is there to say?
- Odour of blood when Christ was slain Made all platonic tolerance vain And vain all Doric discipline.
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- Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day. Love's pleasure drives his love away, The painter's brush consumes his dreams.