This past week, most of my poetry reading has centered on the Irish poet Seamus Heaney. I would love to post one of his poems here, but, because he had the audacity to be born in 1939 and thus all of his poems are still under copyright, I’ll instead post this one from his literary forefather, W. B. Yeats.
“The Lake Isle of Innisfree”
by William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.