The Lake Isle of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
Once more to Innisfree I go, in need of the wonder of words. Yeats never disappoints. With each syllable my breath is easier, softer, slower.
It is the peace that “comes dropping slow,” the specialty of the mind’s eye offering “midnight all a glimmer and noon a purple glow.”
And when “the world is too much with me,” it is to here I go where lake waters lap the shore, settling “deep into my heart’s core.”
Though my Innisfree is one of words, its shores are no less real than the peace that “comes dropping slow.”