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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Yeats Day

W B Yeats book

Well its a double hit this week of Irish writer days today is the 150th annivesary of the birth of William Butler Yeats .I first came across Yeats at school he is one of the few Poets I have actually like from reading the first poem by him which I was The Magi . I brought the above copy about twenty years ago and have read it few many times .This collection was sorted and put together by Yeats himself so I found it maybe a choice of what he considered his best work and for me that is good enough my copy came out in 1938  .Then later in the week we have this years Bloomsday .

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.

I choose the first two verses of Stolen child as it ties in with a song version of the poem from the Waterboys . It is also worth checking out there album of songs from his poems a n appointment with Mr Yeats .

Have you a favourite  poem by him

 

Winstons covers – dart by alice oswald

 

A  new feature ,in which I feature a pretty book cover or a book that is linked in some way to something that is happening in the world .I ve loads of books so never short of a cover to take a picture of one.This collection I love it is ilustrated by Jonathan Gibbs

So I start here with Dart from Alice Oswald I won this as a set of six poetry first books from Faber from Nonsuch books last year ,as the riots we raging on the tv the other night I decided to find solace in some nature poetry and choose this to read at 48 pages long it took less than two hours to read .It won the T S Eliot award in 2002 .Oswald spent a number of months on the river talking to people who use the river dart which the poem is about .

woodman working into twilight

you should se me in the moonlight

comb my cataract of hair,

at work all night on my desire 

Oh I could sing Hylas,

how the water wooed him senseless,

I could sing the welded kiss

continuous of Salmacis 

Alice Oswald 

The peasent poet -John Clare

john clare

Is probably the greatest nature poet that lived ,he was born to a farm labourer in Northamptonshire in 1793 ,he wrote poems in his local dialect about the natural world that surrounded him .sell his earliest poems to save his family’s home ,in later life he was locked in a asylum for a few years .this period of time gave Adam Fould the idea for his booker shortlisted novel the quickening maze .Clare also reworked some of Byron’s poems during his later life ,as it is national poetry month I d thought I d highlight a poet who’s works have brought me pleasure

birds in alarm

The fire tail tells the boys when the nest are nigh,

and tweets and flyes from every passer bye,

The yellowhammer never makes a noise ,

but flyes in silence from the noisey boys ,

the boys will come and take them every day ,

and still she lays as none were taen away

the opening of birds in alarm by John Clare .

Last year penguin brought out a wonderful volume containing Clare and loads of other poems about birds .

the poetry of birds

 good luck to all readthon peeps today .

what is your favourite nature poet ?

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