Friday, May 16, 2003


The Lake Isle Of Innisfree
by William Butler Yeats

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 honeybee,
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 mourning 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 grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

I have been hearing about gardens on every side for the past week. Is it just that it's spring? Or was there a memo that I didn't get?

Mine is approaching disaster-area status. It needs some serious, heavy-duty maintenance. Not quite as bad as my wife says. "The weeds are almost as tall as the fence!" she says. I checked. The weed (singular) that is almost as tall as the fence is behind the cypresses. But it's still pretty bad.

And that's the reason for the Yeats. Even though I won't have a hive for the honeybee and my glade, such as it is, won't be bee-loud.