I think that a fierce woman's better, a woman That breaks away when you have thought her won, For I'd be fed and hungry at one time. - William Butler Yeats

And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon, the golden apples of the sun.

Brown Penny

I WHISPERED, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

Things fall apart;
the center cannot hold...