Author William Butler Yeats For one throb of the artery, While on that old grey stone I sat Under the old wind-broken tree, I knew that One is animate, Mankind inanimate phantasy. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments