isle of purple heather

Once again, the time has come for the (now) third annual Brigid in Cyberspace Poetry Reading. I find this a much more fulfilling endeavor than waiting for a poor groundhog to be pulled out of his nest each year.

Outside it's blustery, cold, and wet. While I love the moisture we're receiving, I long for the quiet, warm, and colorful days of summer. William Butler Yeats takes me there, if only in spirit.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise 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.

~~William Butler Yeats~~