It surprises me to think it has taken me so long to share this poem with you, as it stands as an enduring favourite of mine.
I first heard it read during my university years and the words attached themselves strongly to my heart. It's like that with poetry.
The poem titled, 'The Host of The Air ' is by William Butler Yeats, a famed Irish poet. It seems most fitting to be finally sharing it with a wider audience on March 17th, St Patrick's Day.
On one of my trips to Ireland, I made the pilgrimage to Yeats' burial site in Drumcliffe Parish Church cemetery in County Sligo to pay homage. The site has become both a shrine and a tourist attraction. I have also been privileged to view his notebooks in the Irish Writer's Museum in Dublin on two occasions.
The Host Of The Air
O'Driscoll drove with a song
The wild duck and the drake
From the tall and the tufted reeds
Of the drear Hart Lake.
And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,
And dreamed of the long dim hair
Of Bridget his bride.
He heard while he sang and dreamed
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
And he saw young men and young girls
Who danced on a level place,
And Bridget his bride among them,
With a sad and a gay face.
The dancers crowded about him
And many a sweet thing said,
And a young man brought him red wine
And a young girl white bread.
But Bridget drew him by the sleeve
Away from the merry bands,
To old men playing at cards
With a twinkling of ancient hands.
The bread and the wine had a doom,
For these were the host of the air;
He sat and played in a dream
Of her long dim hair.
He played with the merry old men
And thought not of evil chance,
Until one bore Bridget his bride
Away from the merry dance.
He bore her away in his atms,
The handsomest young man there,
And his neck and his breast and his arms
Were drowned in her long dim hair.
O'Driscoll scattered the cards
And out of his dream awoke:
Old men and young men and young girls
Were gone like a drifting smoke;
But he heard high up in the air
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
William Butler Yeats
Please enjoy this glorious reading of the poem by The Clancy Brothers & Tommy Makem in 1963 at Carnegie Hall, New York.
It is yet again Poetry Friday and our host this week isLaura Purdie Salas. Laura's post is loaded with news. She is currently attending a young author's conference, shares a host of thanks, announces a new poetry project 'Digging For Poems and shares some magnetic poetry ideas. Please drop by for more details.
Alan, thank you, for sharing Yeats' poem. I had never heard it before. It looks like a good poem to talk to others about. I enjoyed listening to it read at Carnegie Hall too.
"And dreamed of the long dim hair Of Bridget his bride." What a great example of poem that comes from going outside and noticing. Such beautiful language. Such a sweet and sad story. So Irish.
I've read this poem, but it seemed especially yearning this time. Perhaps a result of all the health issues various loved ones are going through. I think the more we lose in life, the more we respond to this kind of poem--or maybe it's just me. That reading is, indeed, glorious. Thank you.
Poignant is a very apt word to use in relation to this poem, Mary Lee. The imagery is acutely presented too, all adding to the reader's appreciation of the whole scene.
Thanks for sharing this powerfully strong yet sad poem-tale–so visual it dances before us as we read. Thanks also for the moving reading! Hope to get there one day too…
My pleasure, Michelle. The imagery is powerful, as you rightly point out. Hope you achieve your goal of reaching Ireland's shores one day. Glad you liked the reading too.
This poem by Australian poet Bruce Dawe epitomises the unique connection sporting tragics have to their preferred football teams, -an almost tribal allegiance. Each season supporters stare down the twin imposters- victory and defeat. They remain both loyal and hopeful of eventual triumph. This poem refers specifically to Australian Rules Football, but it's themes are universal. I share this poem on the eve of the 2017 Grand Final to decide the Premiership for this football season. My team, the Richmond Tigers have reached the play off to decide the ultimate victor. They have not contested the Grand Final match for 35 years. My hopes fly with them. This poem links two of my great loves -football and poetry... Life Cycle When children are born in Victoria they are wrapped in club-colours, laid in beribboned cots, having already begun a lifetime’s barracking. Carn, they cry, Carn … feebly at first while parents playfully tussle with them for possession of a rusk: Ah, he
Poets not only write poetry, they also read poetry. In order to be able to write poetry, one must read it. Lots of poetry in fact... I want to share a short little poem by Valerie Worth. I bought Valerie's book, 'All The Small Poems And Fourteen More,' while living and working in New York, some time back. It remains a personal favourite. I love the way the poet shines a special light on everyday objects, transforming them into something unique and worthy of attention. Her close observations elevate her poems into the special category. Each poem in the collection celebrates earthly wonders. From eggs to garbage, from potatoes to pockets, each object is given special attention in the form of short poems employing keen observations. Valerie Worth demonstrates through her poems she totally understands the saying-'ideas exist in things.' The poem I have chosen to share with you (one of my personal favourites) is titled, 'Safety Pin'. S af
O pp o s ite P oem s In his book, ' How To Write Poetry,' Paul Janeczko presents the idea of opposite poems. Paul suggests they could also be referred to as antonym poems. This is wordplay and it's fun to try. Here are some examples Paul provides to help us see very clearly how these short little poems work. I think the opposite of chair Is sitting down with nothing there What is the opposite of kind? A goat that butts you from behind Paul Janeczko You will notice the poems are written in rhyming couplets. They can be extended so long as you remember to write in couplets. Paul shows us how this is done. What is the opposite of new? Stale gum that's hard to chew A hot-dog roll as hard as rock Or a soiled and smelly forgotten sock You might notice that some of Paul's opposite Poems begin with a question. The remainder of the poem answer the question posed. Opposite poems are a challenge, but it is a challenge worth trying. Not e
Alan, thank you, for sharing Yeats' poem. I had never heard it before. It looks like a good poem to talk to others about. I enjoyed listening to it read at Carnegie Hall too.
ReplyDeleteMy pleasure Denise. The Carnegie Hall reading still stirs me each time i hear it.
DeleteLove the reading, too, Alan, the happiness and too, the melancholy. And I like hearing it is a special one to you for long years! Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThank you Linda. The poem certainly evokes a range of emotions as you note. I too appreciate its life long appeal.
DeleteThis was a joy to dip into. Thank you, Alan. I loved visiting the Writers Museum in Dublin years ago.
ReplyDeleteYou're most welcome, Patricia. Sadly, I read yesterday that the Writer's Museum is now permanently shut, following Covid. Such disappointing news.
DeleteThanks for sharing Alan! Always love an Irish poet on March 17!
ReplyDeleteMy pleasure Sarah, Given my Irish heritage, my propensity to respond with music and literature on March 17th is as certain as sunrise.
Delete"And dreamed of the long dim hair
ReplyDeleteOf Bridget his bride."
What a great example of poem that comes from going outside and noticing. Such beautiful language. Such a sweet and sad story. So Irish.
The language of Yeats is so engaging, Linda. As you write, the essence of this poem is quintessentially Irish. Thank you for your response
DeleteI've read this poem, but it seemed especially yearning this time. Perhaps a result of all the health issues various loved ones are going through. I think the more we lose in life, the more we respond to this kind of poem--or maybe it's just me. That reading is, indeed, glorious. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your honest response Laura. I'm glad you made a strong connection with this latest reading of Yeats' poem.
DeleteThe contrasts in this poem make it especially poignant.
ReplyDeletePoignant is a very apt word to use in relation to this poem, Mary Lee. The imagery is acutely presented too, all adding to the reader's appreciation of the whole scene.
DeleteMy Irish roots are reveling in Yeats words. I hear the piping...
ReplyDeleteTo be sure, Bridget. I do the very same thing each time these words appear.
DeleteThanks for sharing this powerfully strong yet sad poem-tale–so visual it dances before us as we read. Thanks also for the moving reading! Hope to get there one day too…
ReplyDeleteMy pleasure, Michelle. The imagery is powerful, as you rightly point out. Hope you achieve your goal of reaching Ireland's shores one day. Glad you liked the reading too.
Delete