For W. B. Yeats magic was not so much a kind of poetry as poetry a kind of magic and the object of both alike was evocation of energies and knowledge from beyond normal consciousness.
Kathleen Raine
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And see the peaceful trees extend
their myriad leaves in leisured dance
they bear the weight of sky and cloud
upon the fountain of their veins.
- Kathleen Raine -
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Meanings, moods, the whole scale of our inner experience finds in nature the correspondence through which we may know our boundless selves.
- Kathleen Raine -