The Isle of Innisfree
(Orla Fallon of "Celtic Woman").
When I was an undergraduate student of English Literature, I took a class called "Seminar in the Lyric" which was about the poets Emily Dickinson and William Butler Yeats. The part on Yeats was taught by a professor emeritus that was nearly eighty years old and had taught at the college for more than fifty years. We studied the poem "The Lake Isle of Innisfree", describing an island that the narrator calls home. She told us that the original Isle of Innisfree is actually a very tiny island, with very little room on it. Yeats' idea of it being the perfect place is that it is a place of peace.
I believe we all need our "Isle of Innisfree", or Shangri-la. It's the place where we feel the most comfortable. We find peace and rest. In Connecticut, USA it was Victoria's Station cafe with its couches, fireplace, bookshelves, and butterscotch lattes (with soy!) for autumn's special flavours. When I was a young schoolgirl in Worcester, Massachusetts; it was a place by the brook. It was in the woods near the school and I often went there during recess to enjoy solitude. Later it was the loft that was in the other school's classroom. I used to go there with a book quite often and then read there. It was nice and warm when the heat would rise there. Now I have a one-room apartment in a building called "Pyong Hwa Billa" or "Peace Villa".
Here are the lyrics as sung by Orla Fallon:
This is the original poem by William Butler Yeats:
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, 5
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; 10
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
When I was an undergraduate student of English Literature, I took a class called "Seminar in the Lyric" which was about the poets Emily Dickinson and William Butler Yeats. The part on Yeats was taught by a professor emeritus that was nearly eighty years old and had taught at the college for more than fifty years. We studied the poem "The Lake Isle of Innisfree", describing an island that the narrator calls home. She told us that the original Isle of Innisfree is actually a very tiny island, with very little room on it. Yeats' idea of it being the perfect place is that it is a place of peace.
I believe we all need our "Isle of Innisfree", or Shangri-la. It's the place where we feel the most comfortable. We find peace and rest. In Connecticut, USA it was Victoria's Station cafe with its couches, fireplace, bookshelves, and butterscotch lattes (with soy!) for autumn's special flavours. When I was a young schoolgirl in Worcester, Massachusetts; it was a place by the brook. It was in the woods near the school and I often went there during recess to enjoy solitude. Later it was the loft that was in the other school's classroom. I used to go there with a book quite often and then read there. It was nice and warm when the heat would rise there. Now I have a one-room apartment in a building called "Pyong Hwa Billa" or "Peace Villa".
Here are the lyrics as sung by Orla Fallon:
I've met some folks Who say that I'm a dreamer And I've no doubt There's truth in what they say But sure a body's bound to be a dreamer When all the things he loves are far away And precious things Are dreams unto an exile They take him o'er The land across the sea Especially when it happens he's an exile From that dear lovely Isle of Innisfree And when the moonlight Peeps across the rooftops Of this great city Wondrous though it be I scarcly feel its wonder or laughter I'm once again back home in Innisfree | I wonder o'er green hills Through dreamy valleys And find a peace No other land would know I hear the birds make music fit for angels And watch the rivers laughing As they flow And then into a humble shack I wander-- My dear old home-- And tenderly behold The folks I love Around the turf fire gathered On bended knee Their rosary is told But dreams don't last Though dreams are not forgotten And soon I'm back To stern reality But though they pave The footways here with gold dust I still would choose My Isle of Innisfree |
This is the original poem by William Butler Yeats:
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, 5
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; 10
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
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