Read this excerpt from "The Song of Wandering Aengus" by William Butler Yeats. And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout.

"The Song of Wandering Aengus" is spoken by Aengus, the Celtic god of love and beauty. But in Yeats' poem, he doesn't seem like a god. He just seems like a regular dude. After all, he goes fishing, gets tricked, and grows old-just like the rest of us.