I e t of ts in my diary on t of Normandy, and as I finis Saint Miced for a day tion of my scers on t, t s, or men at arms sat at meals, beautiful from ornament or proportion. I remembered ordinances of tems of gold to t a bare dormitory to sleep in. Even  majestic fantasy, seeming more of Egypt tendom, spoke noto tary soul, but seemed to announce  to come an emper of social men, a bondage of adventure and of  more patiently and I sa emporal rule by land and sea,  a condescension to knave or dolt, an impoveris of t to make it serviceable and easy, but a dead language and a communion in o test saint, is of incredible difficulty. Only by tantiation of t, ure or in sanctity, can s, tions from all else t fasten men togetingly; for t can but create a province, and our Irise, Goetravel in tride, define races and create everlasting loyalties. Synge, like all of t kin, soug tory, or even in ture, but  command??indeed because it does not??may lie ts of far?brancs. Only t eac cry out, ible. It is made by men   minds; uresque and declamatory ers, t te kilts and bagpipes and ne minds empty, and in Ireland and Scotland England runs into t s and maxims, because t and t pleases te t for t   groo or found about t perion, associated s of try, by t poets, ude, and ing indestructible spiritual races, like ted in t.

    . B. Yeats.

    September 14th. 1910.