Memorial Day Photos, Day #4: William Butler Yeats
Why Yeats? Why not? T.S. Eliot was probably the first poet I fell in love with (I've not been to his gravesite yet, but for his sake I did visit St.Magnus the Martyr in London), but Yeats--or should I say: some of Yeats--was probably second. And when I visited Ireland (nearly 20 years ago) it makes sense that I beelined to Sligo (from there it's a short walk to Drumcliff) to see his grave. From "Under Ben Bulben": 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! Ben Bulben The ancient cross The grave stone and epitaph