October 10, 2008

Do you know this poem?

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 cricket 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 gray,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

I’ve almost made it through a full work week, and it’s not been terrible and some of it has even been interesting. Now that it’s Friday, though, I feel like I’m on the verge of collapse. I hadn’t noticed much, but holding myself up and acting as “normal” as possible, or at least acting in a way that doesn’t make people around me uncomfortable, takes a lot of energy and I’m about out.

What I’d really like to do, I think, would be to rent a farmhouse on Skye, stock up on Talisker, have long conversations with fairies in the Cuillins and selkies in the Sea of the Hebrides, and generally play drunken hermit for a year.

Pity that’s not an option, but there’s a back-up plan. We are thinking of running away for a weekend to get a change of scenery, curl up at a B&B and maybe tour a winery or two. It would give us something to put on the calendar and look forward to, and be a bit of a haven – a brief and local Innisfree even withstanding the knowledge that wherever you go, there you are.

Wherever I go, there I am, and Teddy is not there.

Where is your Innisfree?


Edited to add: The poem is by Yeats, of course. You already knew that because you’re very bright, but I like to cite my sources.


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