Wouldn't it be nice to be near Sligo today?
Today is the kind of day that I would like to have in Sligo, Ireland, again. Here is a picture of me sitting on a sheep-field fence in the steep hills outside of Sligo:
It was a day somewhat like this morning in State College, Pennsylvania--cool, but not cold; overcast, but not oppressive; damp, but not wet.
A day for a Yeats' poem, for Sligo is Yeats' country:
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
--William Butler Yeats (1890)
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean -rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the crickets sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
Yes, the heart's core.
