| Stretched on Your Grave presents.... |
| The Stolen Child |
| A Poem by William Butler Yeats |
| Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuthwood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping Herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we've hid our faery vats, Full of berries And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim grey sands with light, By far off furthest Rosses We foot it all the night Weaving olden dances Mingling hands and mingling glances 'Til the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And is anxious in it's sleep. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wandering water gushes From the hills above Glen-Car, In pools among the rushes That scarce could bathe a star, We seek for slumbering trout And whispering in their ears Give them unquiet dreams; Leaning softly out From ferns tht drop their tears Over the young streams. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Away with us he's going, The solemn-eyed: He'll hear no more the lowing Of the calves on the warm hillside Or the kettle on the hob Sing peace into his breast, Or see the brown mice bob Round and round the oatmeal chest. For he comes, the human child, To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand! |
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