A Quote by William Butler Yeats on birds, country, death, generations, men, music, sensuality, and songs
That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees - Those dying generations-at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unaging intellect.
Source: The Tower, 1928. Sailing to Byzantium
Contributed by: Zaady