Friday 23 August 2013

Come Away, O Human Child!

Me at Glen-Car waterfall, Co. Sligo
Dress: Hand-me-down from my Mama
Cardigan: Gift from my Mama
Belt: Beyond Retro, London
Shoes: Jones Bootmaker

The Stolen Child
(W.B. Yeats)

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of the reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Clew Bay, Westport, Co. Mayo

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight.
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

My beautiful Mama, a true faery, at Glen-Car

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car, 
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star, 
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams; 
Leaning softly out 
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. 

Castlerock beach, Co. Derry

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child, 
To the waters and the wild 
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

Clew Bay wildflowers

A love letter from Ireland! I spent a few days there with my parents, discovering and falling in love with that wonderful wee island, from whence my father's family harks a few generations back. We stayed in my ancestors' wee town in County Donegal, but also explored parts of Mayo, Derry and Sligo, including a stop at the waterfalls mentioned in the Yeats poem above. It was all rather magical...

8 comments:

  1. Awesome! I love Ireland, cannot wait to go back one day :)

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    1. I definitely have a new found love of it and hope to make more than one return trip!

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  2. Simply marvelous poetry choice for these windswept, lovely images of Ireland. Have I ever mentioned to you that Tony and I lived there for a couple of years at the start of our relationship? He was working in Ireland when we met (online), and went some time first in Dublin and then the wee village/town of Clonakilty in Co. Cork. Though at times Ireland and were like oil and water (which was heartbreaking for me, because prior to going there, it was the country I most wanted to see, and always assumed I've get on swimmingly with, in the whole wide world), I do have many fond memories and am extremely grateful for the time we spent there. It's always awesome when you get a chance to broaden your horizons by living or traveling abroad.

    ♥ Jessica

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    1. I never knew you lived in Ireland! I did go several years ago, but only to Dublin, and wasn't overly smitten. I loved it this time around though... But perhaps it was fabulously Romantic for a holiday, rather than somewhere to live. I like to think I'd survive in a small town, surrounded by countryside, but I am such a city girl so I'm not sure how the reality of it would be! But, as you say, just having the experience of living abroad, even when it doesn't turn out quite as you imagined, is wonderful and enriching and eye-opening.

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  3. Replies
    1. Thanks very much - isn't it a lovely poem?

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  4. Oh what a treasure you have created with this post! I'm sure Yeats, ever a Romantic, would be well satisfied and also glad that you have given great respect to part of his setting for The Stolen Child. It is one of my favourite poems. Experiencing The Waterboys performing (I feel a more intense verb is needed here) their version in the relatively intimate and ornate venue of The State Theatre in Sydney, I was totally engrossed and felt I could go away with those fairies right then. And isn't Mike Scott of the faeire folk anyway?...

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    1. Thank you! I have numerous photos of Ireland but picked out the most atmospheric ones... with water where possible... or just wherever one could most imagine faeries.

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