Sailing to Byzantium

[00:17.36] That is no country for old men, the young on one another's arms
[00:22.43] Birds in the trees, those dying generations at their song the salmon-falls
[00:30.76] The mackerel-crowded seas, fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
[00:37.93] Whatever is begotten, born, and dies, caught in that sensual music, all neglect
[00:46.16] Monuments of unaging intellect
[00:57.75] An aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick
[01:02.78] Unless soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing for every tatter in its mortal dress
[01:10.47] Nor is there singing school but studying monuments of its own magnificence
[01:16.96] Therefore, I have sailed the seas and come to the holy city of Byzantium
[01:29.37] O sages standing in God's holy fire, as in the gold mosaic of a wall
[01:36.77] Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre and be the singing-masters of my soul
[01:45.02] Consume my heart away, sick with desire and fastened to a dying animal
[01:54.32] It knows not what it is, and gather me into the artifice of eternity
[02:05.40]
[02:22.75] Once out of nature, I shall never take my bodily form from any natural thing
[02:28.95] But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make of hammered gold and gold enamelling
[02:35.79] To keep a drowsy Emperor awake or set upon a golden bough
[02:40.45] To sing to lords and ladies of Byzantium of what is past, or passing, or to come
[02:49.70]