Chapter 14.1, Problem 96E

Lines from Sailing to Byzantium, by William Butler Yeats

An aged man is but a paltry thing, A

A tattered coat upon a stick, unless B

Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing A

For every tatter in its mortal dress, B

Nor is there singing school but studying A

Monuments of its own magnificence; B

And therefore I have sailed the seas and come C

To the holy city of Byzantium. C