Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Love and Yeats

My youngest sister who is 14 years younger than I am got married last week. There is no better way to capture romance than poetry and nobody could write about love better than Yeats. “Brown Penny” was made famous by the recitation of Christopher Plummer in the film “Must Love Dogs”.

I whispered, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

We grow old and I think I’ve featured “When You are Old and Gray” in an earlier post, but here’s another favorite, “The Song of Wandering Aengus”. You want poetry of the highest quality?

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

My family, very much caught in this OFW phenomenon was at last complete for the first time in 18 years.


Marian said...

you guys must have had a rockin' party!

G. David said...

East of town lies the graveyard.
Really it is not so bad a place.
The birds tither in the trees of
spring. The blossoms bloom
fertilized by the souls of those
that have passed.

It seems the reds are more red,
and the blues are really blue
here in this final of resting places.

My sister lies here.

My words descend like dew on her grave,
I bring her up to speed
as to how her family is doing.

The time for asking is past.
Now all I can do is inform.
It has been months,
but I still miss her.

I don't think you ever get over a sister.

Copyright ©2008 G. David

Enjoy every day you have with your sister Doc.