The Sleeping Wood

Fairytales are magical, I loved reading them as a child, and now I enjoy them as an adult. The below is from a book I have long loved.

‘Ah, it was lovely in the Sleeping Wood with the budding trees all around, and you with your secret thoughts flowering so that it seemed you held a posy in your hands! And in the middle of an ash grove, where the long sun rays fell slanting, the prince of her dreams came cantering on his snowy steed with shining armour and a red plume flaunted . . .  Only when the dazzlement had gone from her eyes it turned out to be no more than Patrick Creegan, the miller’s boy, on a shaggy donkey, and both of them dusted white with mealies.’

I can see a moral in this story . . .

One of my favourite poems to share with you:

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

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 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 morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of 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 grey,

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

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