A month with Yeats: Day Seven

These lines are from ‘To the Rose Upon the Rood of Time’ by W.B. Yeats.

‘…stars, grown old

In dancing silver-sandalled on the sea,

Sing in their high and lonely melody.’

 

To a sleeping child

No sea rolls here but the windy sky,

Flecked and specked with scraps of stars,

That blink like pearls in the water’s gloom.

No sea rolls here but the pearls that glow,

In the cloudy depths of the starry sky,

Diadems for the fair folks’ hair,

While we who dance upon the waves

Sleep, at last, on billowed dreams,

In our ears, the night’s wild song,

Soft as rain, and feathered wings,

And the fluttering lids of a sleeping child.

 

 

 

 

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

48 thoughts on “A month with Yeats: Day Seven”

  1. Pingback: lonely | rivrvlogr
  2. You are making the challenge harder and harder. I need to go search for a rood to hang myself, but first let me have my lunch. My brain refuses to think on a empty stomach.

      1. I forgot, you’re the other direction. Keep thinking you’re in the northern part of India. You always seem to be either preparing lunch or eating it. Sort of Groundhog Day.

      2. ☺☺☺I can assure you I am not a glutton. I am not from northern India, I am from northeast India, from the state of Assam but my home is now in California for last 3 decades.

      3. When you come from a big country with an assortment of ethnic origins, there are bound to be frictions. It’s probably jealousy. Assam is reckoned to be very beautiful.

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