Thursday, July 24, 2008


Under bare Ben Bulben's head
In Drumcliff churchyard

Yeats is laid.
An ancestor was rector there
Long years ago, a church stands near,
By the road an ancient cross.
No marble, no conventional phrase;
On limestone quarried near the spot
By his command these words are cut:

Cast a cold eye
On life, on death.
Horseman, pass by!

. W.B. Yeats

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