Thursday, July 24, 2008
Benbulben
Under bare Ben Bulben's headIn 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
sideways to the sun.
We're the mystery of the lake when the water's still. We're the laughter in the twilight
You can hear behind the hill.
We'll stay around to watch you laugh,
Destroy yourselves for fun.
But, you won't see us, we've grown sideways to the sun.
The Horslips
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