[footnote]In \u201cSailing to Byzantium,\u201d written four\u00a0years earlier in 1926, Yeats expresses his desire to be reincarnated as a work of art, a golden bird, living in sixth-century Byzantium (now Istanbul), his ideal city.\u00a0 In this poem, he imagines he has achieved his dream, and he watches as other souls are purified.[\/footnote]\n\nThe unpurged images of day recede;\nThe Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed;\nNight resonance recedes, night walkers' song\nAfter great cathedral gong;\nA starlit or a moonlit dome[footnote]Of the sprawling Greek Orthodox basilica, St. Sophia (now a museum).[\/footnote]\u00a0disdains\nAll that man is,\nAll mere complexities,\nThe fury and the mire of human veins.\n\nBefore me floats an image, man or shade,\nShade more than man, more image than a shade;\nFor Hades' bobbin bound in mummy-cloth\nMay unwind the winding path;[footnote]After death, when the soul is in Hades (the underworld), the bobbin or spool or gyre of life may unwind, in preparation to enter the realm of pure spirit.[\/footnote]\nA mouth that has no moisture and no breath\nBreathless mouths may summon;\nI hail the superhuman;\nI call it death-in-life and life-in-death.\n\nMiracle, bird or golden handiwork,\nMore miracle than bird or handiwork,\nPlanted on the star-lit golden bough,\nCan like the cocks of Hades crow,[footnote]To announce a reincarnation.[\/footnote]\nOr, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud\nIn glory of changeless metal\nCommon bird or petal\nAnd all complexities of mire or blood.\n\nAt midnight on the Emperor's pavement flit\nFlames that no faggot[footnote]A bundle of sticks tied together, used to fuel fire.[\/footnote]\u00a0feeds, nor steel has lit,\nNor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame,\nWhere blood-begotten spirits come\nAnd all complexities of fury leave,\nDying into a dance,\nAn agony of trance,\nAn agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve.[footnote]Here Yeats describes the ritual process whereby the mortal soul is purified to render it immortal.[\/footnote]\n\nAstraddle on the dolphin's mire and blood,\nSpirit after Spirit! The smithies break the flood.\nThe golden smithies of the Emperor![footnote]Overwhelmed by the number of sprits who come on the backs of dolphins, which in Greek mythology carried souls to the Isles of the Blessed, the goldsmiths call a halt to the purification process, unable to accommodate any more, for now.[\/footnote]\nMarbles of the dancing floor\nBreak bitter furies of complexity,\nThose images that yet\nFresh images beget,\nThat dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented[footnote]From the ringing of the gong, the funeral bell.[\/footnote]\u00a0sea.\n\n\u2014<\/b>\u00a01933<\/p>","rendered":"
[1]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n The unpurged images of day recede; Before me floats an image, man or shade, Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, At midnight on the Emperor’s pavement flit Astraddle on the dolphin’s mire and blood, \u2014<\/b>\u00a01933<\/p>\n\n\t\t\t
\nThe Emperor’s drunken soldiery are abed;
\nNight resonance recedes, night walkers’ song
\nAfter great cathedral gong;
\nA starlit or a moonlit dome[2]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0disdains
\nAll that man is,
\nAll mere complexities,
\nThe fury and the mire of human veins.<\/p>\n
\nShade more than man, more image than a shade;
\nFor Hades’ bobbin bound in mummy-cloth
\nMay unwind the winding path;[3]<\/sup><\/a>
\nA mouth that has no moisture and no breath
\nBreathless mouths may summon;
\nI hail the superhuman;
\nI call it death-in-life and life-in-death.<\/p>\n
\nMore miracle than bird or handiwork,
\nPlanted on the star-lit golden bough,
\nCan like the cocks of Hades crow,[4]<\/sup><\/a>
\nOr, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud
\nIn glory of changeless metal
\nCommon bird or petal
\nAnd all complexities of mire or blood.<\/p>\n
\nFlames that no faggot[5]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0feeds, nor steel has lit,
\nNor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame,
\nWhere blood-begotten spirits come
\nAnd all complexities of fury leave,
\nDying into a dance,
\nAn agony of trance,
\nAn agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve.[6]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n
\nSpirit after Spirit! The smithies break the flood.
\nThe golden smithies of the Emperor![7]<\/sup><\/a>
\nMarbles of the dancing floor
\nBreak bitter furies of complexity,
\nThose images that yet
\nFresh images beget,
\nThat dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented[8]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0sea.<\/p>\nCandela Citations<\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t