XII

类别:文学名著 作者:叶芝 本章:XII

    I oo discuss my ts t I could not bring to a man  meeting some competing t, but partly because tea amp; toast saved my pennies for t  from timate exc, I imid and abasting on a seat in front of tis near and began enticing my pigeons araig of me, very indignant, and presently  into t turning my oen ty or merely very young. Sometimes I told myself very adventurous love stories  otimes I planned out a life of lonely austerity, and at otimes mixed terity mitigated by periodical lapses. I ill tion, formed in Sligo in my teens, of living in imitation of ttle island in Loug Street very tle tinkle of er and saain in a stle ball upon its jet and began to remember lake er. From t lyric s ro loosen roric, and from t emotion of t roric brings, but I only understood vaguely and occasionally t I must, for my special purpose, use not tax. A couple of years later I  ten t first line s conventional arc stanza. Passing anots, a building t I admired because it  is not very good, Morris  it is better t and so te it.??I gre , tone and brick all round me, and presently added, If Joist, or o come again and  upon it,  into some y, and t t,  is still vivid in t a fe Oxford copying out a seventeentury translation of Poggios Liber Facetiarum or to?mac o my troubled family. I ea because I t t if antiquity found locust and ive, my soul rong enougo need no better. I  gesture, putting to one scale of to t ty years ters brave tropolis  some like stimulant; and all, after teen years, according to obstinacy, ood t le diligent sedentary stitcage from my stimulant: I could ink my socks, t t not s y mind, imagining myself, and my torn tackle, somees and crows.

    In London I saantly remembered t Ruskin o some friend of my fato my  tis.

    I convinced myself for a time, t on t  are no longer ticed: t blotcoo mucen too muc. In Dublin I en seen old   bodies, talking to ty, but t, to romance: Da Vinci heir bodies.


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