The quote for today is one of two I’ve chosen from Yeats’ apocalyptic poem, ‘The Valley of the Black Pig.’ My poem is a 17 minute one for those who are counting 🙂 Still behind.
‘The dews drop slowly and dreams gather;’ —W.B. Yeats
Dark dew drops
Is this the dark time of the year,
The time for hiding from the growing cold,
The stirring of the primal fear,
The sun is dead and we are growing old?
And is this silver mantle on the field,
The frosted cloud that clings to every blade,
The same dew summer mornings yield,
The same that moistens every quiet glade?
Why the sadness then, the huddling round the fire’s blaze,
When heaven’s splendour spreads before our trembling gaze?