PIllars of Stuart Pillar one WIlliam Butler Yates

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I said yesterday , I wanted to remember mum , but as I was thinking of Mum , I thought of how she and my dad had both set me on the road to being a book blogger and lifelinger reader. Now I read as a kid mile most Kids Narnia , BB novels , Tolkien , the adventure series and many more these are like the ground fill my pillars are to be built on. I Say Pillars after WIlliam H Gass and Scott Esposito both of whom have done 50 pillars that made them  the reader and writer they are, also  lot of personnel canons of books  have  been doing the rounds last few weeks, but I felt I need to do fifty post one on each book , writer or even film. Yates is part of my first love at school my teacher Mr Savage (or as we knew him Doc Savage after the Ron Ely Doc savage or mr savage was a tall man that loved poetry ). He sparked an early love of poetry and he gave us a small collection of poems he had selected for us to study. Yates wasn’t in this list but from my love of the band the pogues at the time , I some how managed to get to Yates and his ability to mix the everyday and fantasy world of Ireland , a world I knew from reading my grans book of Irish myth one hoilday , I feel for his poems especially The magi , the stolen child (with a waterboys background ) , a cradle song and so many the front page here above is the collection I brought as a teen for 2.60 is a 1938 collection of his works that has never been far from hand since then. As I looked to build this personnel history of my reading and writing life of the books that made the blogger this was the first that came to mind and the poem below made me think of mum , she never got to be old but she loved the sight of a peat fire and the smell of peat smoke one few things from her time in Ireland she loved . She also used encourage me reading especially poetry , even read my early tries at poetry. LIke Yates says in cloth of heaven I weaved him in my dreams and books and laid them under my feet as a reader stepping forth my books are my dreams each making me the reader , writer and dreamer I am . Each step and book a new pice of cloth in my cloak of reading .

When you are old by William Butler Yates
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars

 

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