The Lake Isle of Innisfree

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.
I hadn’t read this before – one of Yeats’s quieter poems. The music is lovely! Thank you.
Thanks, Catherine. I’m enjoying the poems on your blog, too.
Like balm for the wossname. Very seductive. Suspect I’d get cabin fever. Even Thoreau had a railway line running past his bit of Eden.
Reblogged this on Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay.
I might last (but I’m an introvert). Visitors welcome, but one at a time.
Me too, but there’s something about rural solitude that has me howling at the moon for cities. And vice-versa. I’ve lived in both and love them both, but I always yearn for the other. Same with countries – Britain and America. It’s only suburbia that’s intolerable.
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