November Yeats Challenge was a feeble place-holder title that I’m getting rid of today. Same challenge, different title.
I had pulled out at least a month’s worth of lines from Yeats’ poetry when I saw the photo below on Paul Militaru’s photography blog a couple of days ago. I immediately thought of one of the lines I had selected.
“With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,”—W.B. Yeats
If you don’t want to be influenced by Paul’s photo, please close your eyes now.
Photo ©Paul Militaru
The old ones
They watch us when we are sleeping,
The old ones, when we walk,
The fields and the oak-hung paths.
They are there in the shallow pools
Of morning and evening,
Sunlight and moonlight,
And of all times, the fickle, vacillating dusk,
When time and tide and tomorrows mingle
In the heaving movement of the heavens.
Heavy with dust and distance,
They watch with their hooded eyes
And wait for the inevitable,
Widening crack in the carapace,
The grappling for the thread of faith,
When we too discover
That all things have an end.