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