Tag: Yeats

10 minute poem

(For Robert & Juliette)

I must arise and go now
and go beyond the Pale,
and a small forest grow there,
a heart and mind remake.
And I shall have some ease there,
and peace to rest my limbs,
and she will wait upon the seas,
and walk on roots of birch and spruce.
And I shall call her on the wind,
like gull and hawk in sun.

I must clear out this festering way
and take a mountain step
across the lake that’s shaped my view,
and bid my drive farewell.
When oft I rest in thrall of moon,
and bless the hour that’s struck,
you’ll see me stride among the stars
‘mid leaves that paint a life sublime.
I’ll draw my warmth from a fire she’ll set,
and crack a bottle of wine.

_____________________

Note: This poem was originally composed in 10 minutes – while being recited into my iphone. It took a lot longer than that to knock into this shape.

‘On Woman’ by WB Yeats

https://bumpers.fm/_/embed/b40rvpusfitg01453740

 

MAY God be praised for woman
That gives up all her mind,
A man may find in no man
A friendship of her kind
That covers all he has brought
As with her flesh and bone,
Nor quarrels with a thought
Because it is not her own.
Though pedantry denies,
It’s plain the Bible means
That Solomon grew wise
While talking with his queens.
Yet never could, although
They say he counted grass,
Count all the praises due
When Sheba was his lass,
When she the iron wrought, or
When from the smithy fire
It shuddered in the water:
Harshness of their desire
That made them stretch and yawn,
pleasure that comes with sleep,
Shudder that made them one.
What else He give or keep
God grant me — no, not here,
For I am not so bold
To hope a thing so dear
Now I am growing old,
But when, if the tale’s true,
The Pestle of the moon
That pounds up all anew
Brings me to birth again —
To find what once I had
And know what once I have known,
Until I am driven mad,
Sleep driven from my bed.
By tenderness and care.
pity, an aching head,
Gnashing of teeth, despair;
And all because of some one
perverse creature of chance,
And live like Solomon
That Sheba led a dance.

William Butler Yeats