Thursday, January 5, 2012

Blue Hour 4 of 6

8:30 pm

Into The Twilight 
Out-Worn heart, in a time out-worn,
Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;
Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight,
Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.

Your mother Eire is aways young,
Dew ever shining and twilight grey;
Though hope fall from you and love decay,
Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue.

Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill:
For there the mystical brotherhood
Of sun and moon and hollow and wood
And river and stream work out their will;

And God stands winding His lonely horn,
And time and the world are ever in flight;
And love is less kind than the grey twilight,
And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.

William Butler Yeats

5 comments:

  1. I can really imagine this scene being played out in the wild west of Ireland.

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  2. Love the silhouette and blur. Colour is great too. The poem a bit more cheerful.

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  3. I know a lot of Yeats, but not that one. I love it maudlin quality. The text and the image are at one in this post.

    Quite wonderful matching.

    I also like the clump of seeding grass, centre stage.

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  4. I knew Yeats would bring you in Julie!

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