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Go Back   Spiritual Forums > Most Anything > Poetry

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Old 26-10-2020, 08:33 AM
Joe Mc Joe Mc is offline
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Join Date: Nov 2012
Posts: 2,754
 
A Moment's Reprieve

Deleted*

In this beautifully transcendental poem of WB Yeats, the reader and listener are invited to acknowledge human suffering
and what it initially tells us about the limitations of human life but how if human suffering is lead by the hand into
something bigger and deeper (Nature in this case) it can lead us into a greater freedom beyond human sorrow.

The Stolen Child

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

here is the same poem in song :)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kRaikBLoxE




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__________________
Too much intellectual pride and not enough intellectual beauty

To Thine own Self be True

The Frost performs its secret ministry,Unhelped by any wind. Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Last edited by Joe Mc : 26-10-2020 at 06:27 PM.
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