When our own time and place

So forgettable be,

Where is the harm in drooling

Over Byzantium or Innisfree?

When time and place be out of sorts,

Go make your time and place;

There is that about the human mind

That can in hell find grace.

Make of your soul a singing spring

That no emperor may seal;

Make of your body a violin

Whose melancholy may heal.

And when the hour comes to say goodbye,

Go skating like a child,

And close your eyes upon a dream

Of Xanadu on the other side.

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