View photo
  • 5 hours ago
  • 1

WHO will go drive with Fergus now,
And pierce the deep wood’s woven shade,
And dance upon the level shore?
Young man, lift up your russet brow,
And lift your tender eyelids, maid,
And brood on hopes and fear no more.
And no more turn aside and brood
Upon love’s bitter mystery;
For Fergus rules the brazen cars,
And rules the shadows of the wood,
And the white breast of the dim sea
And all dishevelled wandering stars.

W B Yeats
View quote
  • 9 hours ago
View photo
  • 3 days ago
  • 218
View photo
  • 1 week ago
  • 5680
View photo
  • 1 week ago
  • 82
View photo
  • 1 week ago
  • 1806
View photo
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 15
View photo
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 5
View photo
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 217
View photo
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 47
View photo
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 32554
View photo
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 7440
View photo
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 70086
View photo
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 939
View photo
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 15797
x