The lure of Innesfree
let me tempt you
for a little while
come, follow me
to my misty isle
we shall ride
along the shores
take long hikes
through the moors
sleep and dream
beside log fires
a house so cosy
fulfil your desires
we'll cook delicious
and drink glasses
of the finest brew
dreams don't last
but you will remember
the magic sunset
seas in late september
come follow me
run with the leprechauns
on the isle of secrets
to lovely Innesfree
and Irish songs
will capture your heart
for never again
from your soul to part
and we shall find the art
feedback van andere lezers
Year, lets go there
killea: pack your bags love
As always. Happy to read your work.
Ihad to google Innesfree and read what i found
William Butler Yeats.
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 gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core
Je weet dat ik graag dingen weet.
Natuurlijk is deze FB niet bedoeld om jou gedicht te ontkrachten.
Zoiets doe ik niet en het gedicht van Yeats deel ik met je.
killea: It is beautiful, I love Yeats thank you M
Sounds beautiful. I want to move there, now :-)
killea: Yes, so do I Jack
Graag gelezen deze.
killea: many thanks Tessy
I've never been to Ireland yet but I like its music and the Irisch temperament. I named my daughter 'Tara' (de name of de property in Gone with the wind). Later I discovered there is actually a mountain called Tara in Ireland, where in very old times the elder spoke law.
'Leprechauns'... perhaps I've got one in my house. I'm always missing one sock of a pair. Perhaps he's taking them for the one shoe he makes.
Lovely poem, Killea!
killea: Thank you Christine, I have several sock stealing buggers too. Don't know what they do with them, but think they use them to collect and keep their money hidden. I certainly can never find them again.