What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)
I studied William Butler Yeats, many years ago at university. I can't remember much about him now, but I came across this poem recently. I think it is really beautiful, so I have decided to share it with you. Following the poem are some photos of the countryside of which Yeats was writing.
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| W. B. Yeats Photo source |
THE STOLEN CHILD
By W.B. Yeats
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats
There we've hid our faery vats
Full of berries
And the reddest stolen cherries.
And the reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters of the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
To the waters of the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.
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| Glencar Waterfall Source |
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| Glencar and the Lough Source |
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| Looking back into Glencar, above the craggy lower slopes.Source |
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