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.

What were all the world’s alarms
To mighty Paris when he found
Sleep upon a golden bed
That first dawn in Helen’s arms?

Every day, everywhere, our children spread their dreams under our feet. We should tread softly because we tread on their dreams

It’s certain that fine women eat
A crazy salad with their meat
Whereby the Horn of plenty is undone.