Under Ben Bulben (A Verse fom the Last Poem 1939) by William Butler Yeats Irish poets, learn your trade, Sing whatever is well made, Scorn the sort now growing up All out of shape from toe to top, Their unremembering hearts and heads Base-born products of base beds. Sing the peasantry, and then Hard-riding country gentlemen, The holiness of monks, and after Porter-drinkers randy laughter; Sing the lords and ladies gay That were beaten into clay Through seven heroic centuries; Cast your mind on other days That we in coming days may be Still the indomitable Irishry. A verse from Under Ben Bulben by William Butler Yeats. (Yeats is buried in Drumcliff churchyard close to the foot of the mountain in County Sligo) https://youtube/watch?v=ulB1OV8SWF0
Posted on: Tue, 23 Sep 2014 05:03:39 +0000
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