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.
Jane Dougherty Writes 
Oh, lovely prompt, and lovely poem! As you will see, I have gone somewhere a little different…
https://fmmewritespoems.wordpress.com/2017/11/07/november-with-yeats-7/
Thank you! Your direction is totally different and absolutely fabulous!
Do you mean Absolutely Fabulous??
I do. I say it as someone who has never seen the TV series in question, but I’m told it was very good 🙂
wonderful poem, Jane 🙂
https://ladyleemanilablog.wordpress.com/2017/11/07/a-month-with-yeats-day-seven/
Reblogged this on Die Erste Eslarner Zeitung – Aus und über Eslarn, sowie die bayerisch-tschechische Region!.
🙂
lonely
https://rivrvlogr.wordpress.com/2017/11/07/lonely/
Oh this one is boisterous and so visual! Bravo!!
I got lost in a last waltz:
https://deuxiemepeau.blog/2017/11/07/through-the-sands-day-7-of-a-month-with-yeats/
Thank you! The last waltz was a sad one.
Lovely, Jane. Such beautiful images.
I finished my work, so now I get to play. 🙂 https://merrildsmith.wordpress.com/2017/11/07/silvered-dust-of-time-and-space-quadrille-and-yeats-challenge-day-7/
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.
You eat at such strange times of day!
Why, it is just lunch time where I am.
Is it Tuesday or Wednesday lunchtime? It’s Tuesday bed time here.
Tuesday lunch time. I am not in French, otherwise I would have been tempted to check out O’naturle restaurant in Paris☺
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.
☺☺☺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.
Sorry. I didn’t realise North/Northeast was a touchy subject. And I didn’t mean to cast aspersions on the number of meals you have per day 🙂
Not at all. Northerns tries to look down upon the people from northeast and we try to be the proverbial thorn under their skin ( like the Brits and the Irish)☺
And regarding meals, my recent post ” https://wp.me/p73yZZ-3HH” should say it all.
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.
Assam is beautiful but paying the price of progress and unrest.
Sounds familiar.
I should have cheated a read the other poems before. Somehow I thought this was supposed to be melancholy.
For what ever it’s worth, here is the shortlink to my post today: https://wp.me/p73yZZ-3Mc
There is a streak of melancholy in Yeats’ poetry. I think you’re right to pick it out.
How Yeatsian of you, Jane! 🙂 Love the lyrical flow of your splendid images!
Here’s my offering:
https://frankjtassone.wordpress.com/2017/11/07/tanka-tuesday-11-7-17-of-autumn-leaves-and-starlit-nights/
Thank you!
My pleasure 😇!
https://methodtwomadness.wordpress.com/2017/11/08/intersections/
This is a great challenge Jane. I’ll save the ones I can’t manage at the moment (most of them I’m afraid) and revisit when time allows. (K)
Do. It works like a squirrel’s store. You can come back to them when you need inspiration 🙂
Squirrels are everywhere I go this autumn They will remind me…
Useful little creatures 🙂
I don’t know why they keep climbing the window screens though. Perhaps because they can…
It’s practice for the big trees.
My neighbor’s cats used to keep them at bay. But now they think they own everything. They are definitely cheeky.
They’re big, husky critters too, your grey squirrels. Our little red ones have a hard time competing with them.
Jane, what a lovely and somewhat sad poem. Well done.
Thanks Michelle 🙂 Yeats does bring out the melancholy.