A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Five

From the lovely ‘Song of Wandering Aengus’. In keeping with the mystical tone of the Yeats poem, my own wanders into the realm of myth too.

 

‘And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.’—W.B. Yeats

 

No more sorrows

 

The dawn is coming, then perhaps the spring,

Though stars still shine as bright as jeweller’s stones,

And no one knows what joy the light will bring

Or sorrows, scattered blood drops in the snow,

When the dream is ended, the water cleared.

Along the moonlit path, frost winter-deep,

Raven feathers lie, and berry blood,

And from the stars that slip now into sleep,

I hear the story of another dream,

And cast a wish into the rushing stream,

To keep my white-skinned love, hair dark as night,

Not watch his blood stain red the winter white.

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.

36 thoughts on “A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Five”

  1. Lovely, Jane. I like these lines in particular: “And from the stars that slip now into sleep,

    I hear the story of another dream,

    And cast a wish into the rushing stream,”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s