Gonne's Mud and Yeats' Gun

Q: How do you kill a young poet?

A: First, you have the poet: , then you add a:, mixed with some . Beautiful, right? Okay, the next thing is, of course, poetry:



No Second Troy
Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great.
Had they bur courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have donde, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?
Which, by the way, reminds me of the: .
Once you've got it all, mix well, shake twice, History and Literature must make an homogenic mixture and then...

Ta-da!:

And I'm not saying she killed him, ok ladies? Just a joke, Ha! Erm... : · !