Yeats, old friend, you still hold true

"Through all the …days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth."
 
Hope is that thing with feathers, I remember, whose neck was wrung by that child in that film last year.
 
"The friends that have I do it wrong

Should know what …is at stake
It is myself that I remake."

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