Longing for Innisfree

This is really not a blog post... this is just a note of longing, a sigh, from a tired soul. 

Tired beyond words by the reality of the pandemic - as it is borne out in her particular case.

6 months of not being infected by the Corona virus should be considered luck, and the life lived gratefully accepted... but utter exhaustion can kill joy and numb gratefulness. 

One longs for rest, sleep, peace... one longs for Innisfree...

Thank you, Yeats, for understanding my state so well... & giving it utterance more than a century ago!


The Lake Isle of Innisfree

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 honey-bee,
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 morning 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.



Eden Baylee said…
Hi Rituparna,

I hope you are keeping as well as can be in this difficult time. Yeats had a way with words to soothe a tired soul.

Susan Price said…
Yeah, he could poem, that man Yeats.
JO said…
Oh how I ‘get’ this. We hang in there - so thanks for this. You and I are not alone,
Peter Leyland said…
The great wonder of literature, Rituparna, that it can do this for us in times like now when we so need it. A great choice of poem to share. Thank you.
Rituparna Roy said…
Dear Peter, Jo, Susan & Eden - THANK YOU so much for your responses!

I have been feeling awful that I could hardly read or respond to anything on AE the last 2 months... couldn't even post my piece last month actually... so this is very reassuring for me!

This is a very difficult time for everyone & I feel a bit overwhelmed at the moment... but as you all rightly point out, literature, esp poetry, can provide such succor during these times. I turn to it often.

Please stay safe. And I hope you find time for yourself.


Love that poem! I once rode a horse on the 'Yeats Trail' in Ireland. We passed by Yeats' grave in Co Sligo... "Cast a cold eye on life, on death. Horseman pass by."

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