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> W.B. Yeats, It would take better than me to describe.
Terocon101
post Jun 18 07, 12:57
Post #1


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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 376
Joined: 28-May 07
From: Co. Galway, Ireland
Member No.: 440
Real Name: Terry O C
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Ephiny



William Butler Yeats

(1865-1939), Nobel Prize winning Irish dramatist, author and poet was born on 13 June 1865 in the seaside village of Sandymount in County Dublin, Ireland. As one of the founders of the Irish Literary Revival, Yeat's works draw heavily on Irish mythology and history.


For me personally he was my first, they say you never forget your first. And for the rest of my life, as I do now, I'm sure I will compare all those poets that follow to the standard of W.B.Yeats.

When I started secondary school 'The Lake Isle of Inisfree' was the first poem I had to memorize.
I remember a very grumpy 13 year old boy, pulling out a "stupid" poetry textbook, while outside his friends were playing in the last sunshiny rays of our childhood .
All you could hear from my parents at that time was "Terry, things are gonna get serious now, you gotta knuckle down". And so I sat there, longing to arise and go out into that sunshine but condemned to an evening with this bloody Yeats fella.

You can imagine my pleasant surprise when I began to read and learned that Mr. Yeats felt exactly the same way I did.

I never did learn that poem because ever since I haven't been able to forget it.

Terry

Ma chara.






The Lake Isle of Inisfree


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.







When living in London, Yeats was often homesick for Ireland, of which this poem 'The Lake Isle of Innisfree' was one of the results.


·······IPB·······

Terry


light
lights
light

--Raymond Rosliep


"The imagination imitates. It is the critical spirit that creates."

--Oscar Wilde

MM Award Winner
 
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