The Lake Isle of Innisfree

photo via creative commons by Pam Corey

I'm not an avid lover of poetry and certainly don't write it. But there are a few poets I enjoy.
The word pictures they paint are vivid in my mind. Yeats is one of those poets. 



The Lake Isle of Innisfree

by W.B. 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 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.