The Eagle
He clasps the crag with crooked hand;
Close to the sun in lovely lands
Ringed with the azure world, he stands,
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls,
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The Coming of Wisdom with Time
Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun,
Now I may wither into the truth.
William Butler Yeats
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