A Month with Yeats: Day Eleven

Today’s quote is from ‘The Harp of Aengus’ by W.B. Yeats.

‘Where time is drowned in odour-laden winds
And Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs,’


She holds tight the thread of dreams


Rain falls dull on sodden fields,

The sky so low it scrapes the boughs

Of trees in winter nakedness.

This time, this place is all we have,

Its aches and pains and unsaid fears,

An ocean grey with greedy hands.

But woven through with fleeting lights,

This damp and misty stillness fills

With all the perfumes of the past,

A host in flowing, broidered robes,

Their feet on running water tread.

The trick, to hold the silken thread,

Where all our days are strung, bright bead on bead,

Lest twisted winter fingers yank it free,

And strew our tumbling, filmy-coloured dreams,

Among the sad remains of last yearโ€™s leaves.


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.

54 thoughts on “A Month with Yeats: Day Eleven”

      1. Ah! Full disclosure: I didn’t realize that you were referring to the painting in your previous comment on this thread. I thought you were asking me to guess at allusions in your poem! ๐Ÿ™‚

      2. No problem; it was my mistaken presumption, after all! Too busy enjoying my birthday luncheon (at home) I suppose. Bread, cheese and Burgundy will do that! LOL.

        As for the ideas in the minds of painters, it’s a mystery. I may “See” a scene unfold when I write, but I lack the discriminating eye or dexterous hand necessary to paint it! Ill stick to poetry, thank you. ๐Ÿ™‚

  1. Druid Moon?
    I will stick to a twelve month calendar
    “Odour-laden winds” is provocative enough for me.
    Following on the footsteps of your poems are becoming difficult. Maybe a good home cooked lunch will fertilize my brain cellsโ˜บ

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