November Yeats 25


‘And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.’—W.B. Yeats


If I were a silver fish

I would dart through the dark reeds

seeking you, following you

wherever you chose to lead


Or I would suddenly twist

in the clear water, sunlight

shafting down, and, laughing, I

would lead you for a little while


and in the evening, when the

stream water glows like fire, we

would rest, side by side, just touching,

yin and yang, we would fall asleep


Day 25 of this cold, bleak November, brightened considerably by Jane Dougherty’s Yeats fiesta. 


11 thoughts on “November Yeats 25

  1. I saw your comment on Jane’s page about the poem, and I can see this is the response. Lovely.
    I particularly like the final stanza. Enjoy the rest of your bleak, cold November day. It’s cold here, too, but the sun is out right now, and we’ll be drinking wine later. 😉


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