The Lake Isle of Innisfree





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,
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;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.







It was too hard to resist adding William Butler Yeats' famous poem to our pages. The photo is of the Isle of Innisfree, in Lough Gill, a freshwater lake in the hills inland of Sligo, and Knocknarea, a mountain of mythic fame.

In his youth, Yeats used to spend his summers with his uncle who owned a flour mill at Ballysadare, a few kilometers walk from Lough Gill. Ballysadare is a picturesque and sleepy little river town, which has probably changed little in the last couple of centuries. Much less is known of Yeats' time there - how it was spent, or with whom. We don't know what memories he carried with him from that beautiful place, but local place names turn up often enough in his poetry.

He used to sit and write on his "Dooney Rock" from which he could see Inisfree, and far across the lake behind it, the "Sleeping Giant" - a mountain which resembles a reclining man. The forest around Dooney Rock is unlike any other, and not a little bit magical. Huge dark conifers with yellowish trunks, on a lush carpet of minute leafed green plants. It is not known if Yeats ever set foot on his island, but it is large enough for a wee "wattle and daub" cottage with its thatched roof, and a good sized garden with space left for bee hives and a glade of trees. We see the lake isle end-on, and it is longer than it is wide. Dooney Rock is along the shore, behind the point of land to the left.

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What follows is a list of Irish writers. (Please let us know of any we have missed.)
The bard is the voice, and ears, and the heart of Irish culture, and if you read their works,
or listen to their songs, some part of you will become Irish, in a way you never expected!







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Clan Mhac an t'Saoir
of Erin


"thought of mind, skill of hand, they are our own,
for we are Freemen of Cine Mhac an t'Saoir"

(A book or poem which has no pity in it had better not be written. - Wilde)