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Marcia, my humble submission is that if one came upon these lines 
inscribed upon a stone in a desert, they would compel reflection in the 
poetic minded. That alone is my justification for such a poetic enterprise, 
your valid points notwithstanding.
 
Regards,
 CR


--- On Sun, 6/28/09, Marcia Karp <[log in to unmask]> wrote:

Don't you hear how your extract is incomplete.  I don't understand what you mean by a valid point.  

Marcia

Chokh Raj wrote: 





Do you want to say, Marcia, that the lines I have quoted make sense only in the context of the whole stanza or, for that matter, only in the context of the whole poem? If that were so, I would not have quoted them. But for me they, by themselves, make a valid point even out of their immediate context.
 
CR


--- On Sun, 6/28/09, Marcia Karp <[log in to unmask]> wrote:

Why would you not quote the complete stanza.  Can't you feel how incomplete your extract is?  Yeats worked very hard to make a whole.  Be kind, CR in how you treat poems and parts of poems, please.

Marcia


Chokh Raj wrote: 






 
 
   Those masterful images because complete
   Grew in pure mind, but out of what began?
   A mound of refuse or the sweepings of a street,
   Old kettles, old bottles, and a broken can,
   Old iron, old bones, old rags, that raving slut
   Who keeps the till. 
 
       -- W.B. Yeats, The Circus Animals' Desertion