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.
Keats paints so well with his pen, swathes his reader with longing…
Yes, some poems must be paintings in order to draw the reader to the point, and he does it well.
I love this one, Dennis, thanks so much for posting it here for us! 🙂
I love this poem. Thank you for posting it.
You’re both welcome.
Thank you sharing … made me long for Ireland …
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