That crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,
Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare
A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing
Heroically lost, heroically found.
No matter what disaster occurred
She stood in desperate music wound,
Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph
Where the bales and the baskets lay
No common intelligible sound
But sang, “O sea-starved, hungry sea.’
by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS (1865-1939)
Public Domain Poetry

Wonderful ♥️
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We quite agree! Thanks for reading, Caleb!
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This is perfect
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We quite agree, Maria!
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Tony,
There is beauty in brokeness and a little messiness. Oh to see something come out of trials.
Thanks, Gary
Gary Avants Forbear Productions * *garyavants66@gmail.com garyavants66@gmail.com
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You said it!
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Thank you for introducing this piece of Yeats. It’s glorious.
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You’re very welcome! And thank you for reading!
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I thank you for this.
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And thank you for reading, Dolly!
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The pleasure is mine, Tony.
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