A terrible beauty is born by W.B. Yeats
By turns joyful and despairing, some of the twentieth century's greatest verse on fleeting youth, fervent hopes and futile sacrifice.
This felt somehow nice and gentle.
Yeats’ words move along patiently, despite deeper rooted political meaning and undertones. Nothing too strenuous or exacting, just the quiet tick tock of his beautiful words.
A review from someone who just can’t with the poetry.