Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And wa… - William Butler Yeats

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

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

I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

I write it out in a verse—
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

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.

All perform their tragic play,
There struts Hamlet, there is Lear,
That’s Ophelia, that Cordelia.