I'm That is no country for old men, the young in one another's arms, birds in the trees,

those dying generations at their song.

The salmon falls, the mackerel crowded seas.

Fish, flesh or fowl commend all summer long, whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music,

all neglect monuments of unaging intellect. An aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick, unless soul clap its hands and sing,

and louder sing for every tatter in its mortal dress.

Nor is there singing school but studying monuments of its own magnificence.

And therefore I have sailed the seas and come to the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God's holy fire! city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God's holy fire, as in the gold mosaic of a wall, come from the holy

fire, purr in a gyre, and be the singing masters of my soul.

Consume my heart away, sick with desire, and fastened to a dying animal.

It knows not what it is and gather me into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take my bodily form from any natural thing,

but such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make, of hammered gold and gold enamelling,

to keep a drowsy emperor away, or sat upon a golden bow to sing, to lords and ladies of Byzantium, of what is past or passing or to come.

This bonus episode, sailing to Byzantium by William Butler Yates, was requested by Carl Hanna.

I am future, and I would like to thank you for your generous support of the Sayers Season 5 Kickstarter. You know, I'm going to be able to be. You know, and