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That crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,
Her soul in division from itself.
Climbing, falling- she knew not where,
Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare.
A beautifully lofty thing, or a thing
Heroically lost, heroically found.

No matter what distaster occured
She stood in desperate music wound,
Wound,wound, and she made in her triumph-
Where the bales and the baskets lay.
No common intelligible sound,
But sang: "Oh sea-starved, hungry sea!"

- Yeats, A Crazed Girl

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