...All literature in some degree, exists to reveal a more powerful and passionate, a more divine world than ours. - William Butler Yeats

I believe when I am in the mood that all nature is full of people whom we cannot see, and that some of these are ugly or grotesque, and some wicked or foolish, but very many beautiful beyond any one we have ever seen, and that these are not far away....the simple of all times and the wise men of ancient times have seen them and even spoken to them.

The Wheel

Through winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter's best of all;
And after that there's nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come — Nor know what disturbs our blood
Is but its longing for the tomb.

Everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.