- This has been one of my favorites for a long time, and I don't know why I haven't posted it yet.
- The Stolen Child
- W.B. Yeats
- Where dips the rocky highland
- Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
- There lies a leafy island
- Where flapping herons wake
- The drowsy water rats;
- There we've hid our faery vats,
- Full of berrys
- And of 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. - Where the wave of moonlight glosses
- The dim gray 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 anxious in its sleep.
- 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. - Where the wandering water gushes
- From the hills above Glen-Car,
- In pools among the rushes
- That scare 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. - 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.
- For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
to the waters and the wild
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poetry
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Yes, that one gave me the shivers when I was young! It's a very coldly beautiful poem, isn't it?
ReplyDeleteAnd those fish having nightmares-- what could trouble a fish's dreams?
But it's not only fairies who steal children; sooner or later they steal themselves away.
Eavan Boland, "On Vacation"
Ballyvaughan.
Peat and salt.
How the wind bawls
across the mountains,
scalds the orchards
of the Burren.
They used to leave milk
out once on these windowsills
to ward away
the child-stealing spirits.
The sheets are damp.
We sleep between the blankets.
The light cotton of the curtains
lets the light in.
You wake first thing
in your five-year-old-size
striped nightie you are
everywhere trying everything:
the springs on the bed,
the hinges on the window.
You know your a's and b's
but there's a limit now
to what you'll believe.
When dark comes I leave
a superstitious feast
of wheat biscuits, apples,
orange juice out for you
and wake to find it eaten.
(Verification word: mosesstr. Moses, s, t, r?
"Moses supposes his toeses are roses,
but Moses supposes erroneously.")
I'd like to steal myself away, sometimes. :)
ReplyDeleteFolklore fairies are a bit scary, as opposed to, say, fairies in Disney or watered-down versions of the stories.