Labour is blossoming or dancing where The body is not bruised to pleasure soul. Nor beauty born out of its own despair, Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of … - William Butler Yeats

O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?

O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?

Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul.

This melancholy London. I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost are compelled to walk through its streets perpetually. One feels them passing like a whiff of air.

Does the imagination dwell the most
Upon a woman won or a woman lost?

People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.