Lines for the Tuesday gone.
And the Wednesday which started.
"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,...
....A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing...
..And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium."
My favourite lines from the W.B.Yeats poem. Other lines I choose to ignore.
