William Butler Yeats (13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)
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The Withering Of The Boughs
I CRIED when the moon was mutmuring to the birds:
'Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will,
I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words,
For the roads are unending, and there is no place to my mind.'
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