Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

--Sailing to Byzantium, lines 25 to 32 by W.B. Yeats