Then he struggled with the mind; His proud heart he left behind. Now his wars on God begin; At stroke of midnight God shall win. - William Butler Yeats

The night can sweat with terror as before
We pieced our thoughts into philosophy,
And planned to bring the world under a rule,
Who are but weasels fighting in a hole.

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I gave what other women gave
That stepped out of their clothes.
But when this soul, its body off,
Naked to naked goes,
He it has found shall find therein
What none other knows, And give his own and take his own And rule in his own right; And though it loved in misery
Close and cling so tight, There’s not a bird of day that dare Extinguish that delight.