Follow @PoliticsIE
 
 
 
Page 1 of 4 1234 LastLast
Results 1 to 10 of 39

Thread: 70th Anniversary of Yeats' Death

  1. #1
    Politics.ie Member
    Join Date
    Sep 2008
    Posts
    157
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)

    Default 70th Anniversary of Yeats' Death

    Nice piece by Eileen Battersby in today's Irish Times to commemorate the 70th anniversary of W.B. Yeats' death:

    IN A SMALL room in the south of France, a patient wife maintains a deathbed vigil. It is January 28th, 1939. While the world moves closer to war, the dying man struggles for breath. He is William Butler Yeats, a Nobel literature laureate and artist of defining stature. Shortly after 2pm, he will pass into eternity; his body will linger in a temporary grave in Roquebrune for more than nine years before making the final journey home to Ireland and a quiet churchyard in Co Sligo.

    In life he was famous. In death he has become immortal, a national poet, an eccentric seer, whose love of country never deflected his rise as an international artist. His vision is romantic, heroic, epic. His art told his story while also shaping the identity of the nation he wanted Ireland to be. His legacy is so immense many Irish poets simply looked elsewhere. Austin Clarke and Patrick Kavanagh had their own voice, leaving the young Thomas Kinsella to battle Yeats’s ghost alone. Yeats emulated Swift’s sense of being driven by a responsibility to his country, while the first Irish writer since to share this cohesively responsible approach is playwright Brian Friel, who openly confronted the conflict in Northern Ireland while exploring the competing national cultures within Ireland. Yeats, quoted by schoolchildren and statesmen, cast a huge shadow and continues to do so...
    I wonder what poems he'd write about Ireland if he was still alive today.

    Anyway, here's Sailing To Byzantium in his honour:

    THAT is no country for old men. The young
    In one another's arms, birds in the trees
    - Those dying generations - at their song,
    The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
    Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
    Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
    Caught in that sensual music all neglect
    Monuments of unageing intellect.

    An aged man is but a paltry thing,
    A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
    Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
    For every tatter in its mortal dress,
    Nor is there singing school but studying
    Monuments of its own magnificence;
    And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
    To the holy city of Byzantium.

    O sages standing in God's holy fire
    As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
    Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
    And be the singing-masters of my soul.
    Consume my heart away; sick with desire
    And fastened to a dying animal
    It knows not what it is; and gather me
    Into the artifice of eternity.

    Once out of nature I shall never take
    My bodily form from any natural thing,
    But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
    Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
    To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
    Or set upon a golden bough to sing
    To lords and ladies of Byzantium
    Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

  2. #2
    Politics.ie Member 20000miles's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2008
    Location
    Blumenau
    Posts
    257
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)

    Default

    Her Praise was always my favourite:

    SHE is foremost of those that I would hear praised.
    I have gone about the house, gone up and down
    As a man does who has published a new book,
    Or a young girl dressed out in her new gown,
    And though I have turned the talk by hook or crook
    Until her praise should be the uppermost theme,
    A woman spoke of some new tale she had read,
    A man confusedly in a half dream
    As though some other name ran in his head.

    She is foremost of those that I would hear praised.
    I will talk no more of books or the long war
    But walk by the dry thorn until I have found
    Some beggar sheltering from the wind, and there
    Manage the talk until her name come round.
    If there be rags enough he will know her name
    And be well pleased remembering it, for in the old days,
    Though she had young men's praise and old men's blame,
    Among the poor both old and young gave her praise.

  3. #3
    Politics.ie Member
    Join Date
    Jan 2007
    Posts
    2,423
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)

    Default

    Ivan Yates-we shall never forget you....sob

  4. #4
    Politics.ie Member
    Join Date
    May 2007
    Location
    Away
    Posts
    604
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)

    Default

    I never could get my head around poetry.

    At least the Yeats industry brings in some income, the chapel graveyard in sligo is the only one I know of with parking for coaches.

  5. #5
    Politics.ie Member merle haggard's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2005
    Posts
    5,489
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)

    Default

    no doubt he died sad not to see his fascist heroes marauding accross europe like supermen. Thankfully for us he popped his clogs before he could write a poem in praise of them .
    I wouldnt compare him to Brian Friel for a minute . Friel confronted a conflict head on in his work . Yeats waited until the mid 1920s before writing his bloody awful " terrible beauty " rubbish . Which was little more than a pathetic attempt to write himself into the 1916 picture retrospectively . Did words of mine send out men the english shot ? "

    no , they feckin didnt ,. Gobshoite . It was absolutely nothing to do with you , nor you it.

  6. #6
    Politics.ie Member Andrew49's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2008
    Location
    On the 99th floor of my block.
    Posts
    6,048
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)

    Default

    Isn't there some doubt as to whose body is buried in Sligo?
    I watched with glee, while your kings and queens, fought for ten decades for the gods they made.

  7. #7
    Politics.ie Member
    Join Date
    Dec 2008
    Posts
    455
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)

    Default

    Quote Originally Posted by merle haggard View Post
    no doubt he died sad not to see his fascist heroes marauding accross europe like supermen. Thankfully for us he popped his clogs before he could write a poem in praise of them .
    He did actually write poems about it. All the men who fought for the Carlists and the Moors, were heroes.

    [QUOTE=merle haggard;1392168]
    I wouldnt compare him to Brian Friel for a minute . Friel confronted a conflict head on in his work . Yeats waited until the mid 1920s before writing his bloody awful " terrible beauty " rubbish . Which was little more than a pathetic attempt to write himself into the 1916 picture retrospectively . Did words of mine send out men the english shot ? "

    no , they feckin didnt ,. Gobshoite . It was absolutely nothing to do with you , nor you it.[/QUOTE

    What did you do in the 1916 rising?

  8. #8
    Politics.ie Member merle haggard's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2005
    Posts
    5,489
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)

    Default

    [quote=Mr.De-Regulation;1392189]

    He did actually write poems about it. All the men who fought for the Carlists and the Moors, were heroes.
    I meant the big 2



    What did you do in the 1916 rising?
    as much as WB Yeats , but i had an excuse

  9. #9
    Politics.ie Member
    Join Date
    Sep 2008
    Posts
    157
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)

    Default

    Quote Originally Posted by merle haggard View Post
    no doubt he died sad not to see his fascist heroes marauding accross europe like supermen. Thankfully for us he popped his clogs before he could write a poem in praise of them .
    I wouldnt compare him to Brian Friel for a minute . Friel confronted a conflict head on in his work . Yeats waited until the mid 1920s before writing his bloody awful " terrible beauty " rubbish . Which was little more than a pathetic attempt to write himself into the 1916 picture retrospectively . Did words of mine send out men the english shot ? "

    no , they feckin didnt ,. Gobshoite . It was absolutely nothing to do with you , nor you it.
    That's a very utilitarian view of what poets and poetry are about.

    You can't measure the greatness of a poet based on his/her politics.

  10. #10
    Politics.ie Member ArtyQueing's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    Location
    Glens of Antrim
    Posts
    302
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)

    Default

    Not a patch on Rabbie Burns, 250 years since his birth - but a mans a man for all that
    "You Popish rogue" 'ní leomhaid a labhairt sinn
    acht "Cromwellian dog" is focal faire againn
    nó "cia súd thall" go eann gan eagla
    "Mise Tadhg" géadh teinn an t-agallamh

    Bodaigh an Cháise táid go hatuireach
    ag filleadh ar a gcéird gach spéice smeartha aca
    gan ghunna, gan chloidheamh gan pinnse chleachtadar
    d'imthigh a mbrígh is tá an cridhe dá ghreada aca.

Page 1 of 4 1234 LastLast

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •