Considering that, all hatred driven hence, The soul recovers radical innocence, And learns at last that it is self-delighting, Self-appeasing, self-affrighting, And that its own sweet will is heaven's will; She can, though every face should scowl, And every windy quarter howl, Or every bellows burst, be happy still. From A Prayer for My Daughter by W. B. Yeats, first published this year. Nationality words link to articles with information on the nation's poetry or literature (for instance, Irish or France).