A Month with Yeats: Day Thirteen

Today’s quote is from ‘The Hosting of the Sidhe’ by W.B. Yeats.

‘Away, come away:

Empty your heart of its mortal dream.’

Riders_of_the_Sidhe

The dream folk

The night is full of their voices,

For they love the dark time best,

And they twist the dusky half-light,

Into crowns for mortals’ hair.

Their realm’s in the wild winds, riding

The backs of foam-maned mares,

They walk with the night folk, silent

As the wolf lies in his lair,

And they laugh in the face of meekness,

For the mild have no place there.

Come away, they call through the willows,

Come away, to the cold-running streams,

And leave your dead, dark mutterings,

To the stick-dry fools without dreams.

 

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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.

47 thoughts on “A Month with Yeats: Day Thirteen”

    1. I love the horses of the Sidhe. It’s one of those things that makes me incandescent about the Irish, that they have a mythology and a culture based on the magic of animals like the horse and the hare, and they massacre them. Shame!

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