t is no try for old men. the young

        In one anotrees

        - tions - at their song,

        the mackerel-crowded seas,

        Fish, flesh, or fowl, end all summer long

        ever is begotten, born, and dies.

        Caug sensual music all

        Mos of unageing intellect.

        An aged man is but a paltry thing,

        A tattered coat upon a stick, unless

        Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing

        For every tatter in its mortal dress,

        Nor is t studying

        Mos of its own magnifice;

        And the seas and e

        to ty of Byzantium.

        O sages standing in Gods holy fire

        As in the gold mosaic of a wall,

        e from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,

        Aers of my soul.

        e my    ah desire

        And fasteo a dying animal

        It kno    is; and gather me

        Into tifice of eternity.

        O of nature I sake

        My bodily form from any natural thing,

        But suchs make

        Of hammered gold and gold enamelling

        to keep a drowsy Emperor awake;

        Or set upon a golden bougo sing

        to lords and ladies of Byzantium

        Of , or passing, or to e.
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