Yeats has made me wanna write songs but I ain’t ready yet. I haven’t fallen in love as many times as him, the silly old bugger. Always asking a woman to marry him and not getting the message when she said no and then asking her daughter, which makes you know why the mother said no so many times. He’s a freak. He looks a bit like a walrus. He’s quite off-putting. But his poems are paintings. My favorite is “No Second Troy,” although I get fed up with people rhyming desire with either fire or pyre. There’s got to be some other option.
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