A dear friend of mine reminded me of the soothing, soulful writings of the poetic W. B. Yeats today.  Nobel Prize Winner, poet, playwright, painter and politician, but first and foremost an Irishman with fiery passion and heart. Here is one of my favorites by this talented artist.  Followed by a musical renditon of the same by the talented Lorenna McKennitt.  Enjoy ...

"Moonlight Reflections"

@Copyrighted Photograph.  All Rights Reserved: Isabelle Black Smith.

The Stolen Child
by W. B. Yeats
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. Where the wandering water gushes From the hills above Glen-Car, In pools among the rushes That scarce could bathe a star, We seek for slumbering trout And whispering in their ears Give them unquiet dreams; Leaning softly out From ferns that drop their tears Over the young streams. 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. Away with us he's going, The solemn-eyed: He'll hear no more the lowing Of the calves on the warm hillside Or the kettle on the hob Sing peace into his breast, Or see the brown mice bob Round and round the oatmeal chest. For he comes, the human child, To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand. (Poem courtesy of poets.org)

Song:  "Stolen Child", By Loreena McKennitt




God Bless and keep the man who picks me up when the little child in me falls completely apart once again.