He thinks of his Past Greatness when Part of the Constellations of Heaven
by William Butler Yeats
   I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young
   And weep because I know all things now:
   I have been a hazel-tree, and they hung
   The Pilot Star and the Crooked Plough
   Among my leaves in times out of mind:
   I became a rush that horses tread:
   I became a man, a hater of the wind,
   Knowing one, out of all things, alone, that his head
   May not lie on the breast nor his lips on the hair
   Of the woman that he loves, until he dies.
   O beast of the wilderness, bird of the air,
   Must I endure your amorous cries?
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