Yeats

While (not) working today I started reading The Wanderings of Oisin by W.B. Yeats. I like it. It makes me daydream of fogs, and phantoms, and things seen out of the corner of your eyes. It makes me want to write about horizons, and places you can't get to.

And then I mounted and she bound me

With her triumphing arms around me,

And whispering to herself enwound me;

He shook himself and neighed three times:

Caoilte, Conan, and Finn came near,

And wept, and raised their lamenting hands,

And bid me stay, with many a tear;

But we rode out from the human lands.

In what far kingdom do you go'

Ah Fenians, with the shield and bow?

Or are you phantoms white as snow,

Whose lips had life's most prosperous glow?

O you, with whom in sloping valleys,

Or down the dewy forest alleys,

I chased at morn the flying deer,

With whom I hurled the hurrying spear,

And heard the foemen's bucklers rattle,

And broke the heaving ranks of battle!

And Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,

Where are you with your long rough hair?

You go not where the red deer feeds,

Nor tear the foemen from their steeds.

I'll leave off without nagging about the lack of a bible comment or post from Jack. I mean, I don't want to be annoying.

Love,

Warnie