Yeats, William Butler (1865-1939)
I don't think I can get up the nerve required to summarise Yeats in two lines.
I was introduced to Yeats as a child by a slightly older, teenager friend; the first poem I read was For Anne Gregory, and I still remember it verbatim. Yeats - so uber fab that Yeatsian is an adjective. So utterly captivating as to be beyond description. Such a Maestro of Maestros that when he died Auden wrote - 'Earth, receive an honoured guest/William Yeats is laid to rest.'
There are a hundred favourites, but today it's his The Lake Isle of Innisfree that's the prompt.
I would leave, go to some deserted nook
- maybe an unknown, old mansabdar’s* tomb
tumbled stones now beside a dried-up brook
and build nothing there, just find some room
and sit below the small dome where pigeons
fill afternoons with their iridescent throats;
and conflicts recede, greed and need, religions,
images of screaming children in some remote
city but close enough to scorch tears dry.
Dusk drops there a broken dragonfly wing
tender and translucent. The light leaps high
in a flaming mauve, a last, frantic fling.
* a military official in the Indian Mughal court (1527-1857)
Would you have to leave if you wanted some peace and quiet? Or are you okay right where you are, like me, panicking sometimes but then calming down with a bit of Yeats and managing to get back on track? :) One more and it's done!!
Posted for the A-Z Challenge 2015