Beloved, gaze in thine own heart
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody.
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee,
There the Loves a circle go,
The flaming circle of our days,
Gyring, spiring to and fro
In those great ignorant leafy ways;
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart
Thine eyes grow full of tender care;
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons, with their subtle guile,
Lift up before us when they pass,
Or only gaze a little while;
For there a fatal image grows
That the stormy night receives,
Roots half hidden under snows,
Broken boughs and blackened leaves.
For all things turn to barrenness
In the dim glass the demons hold,
The glass of outer weariness,
Made when God slept in times of old.
There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought;
Flying, crying, to and fro,
Cruel claw and hungry throat,
Or else they stand and sniff the wind,
And shake their ragged wings: alas!
Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
Gaze no more in the bitter glass.
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling branches bear.
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart,
Thine eyes grow full of tender care;
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
William Butler Yeats ( 1865 - 1939 )
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody.
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee,
There the Loves a circle go,
The flaming circle of our days,
Gyring, spiring to and fro
In those great ignorant leafy ways;
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart
Thine eyes grow full of tender care;
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons, with their subtle guile,
Lift up before us when they pass,
Or only gaze a little while;
For there a fatal image grows
That the stormy night receives,
Roots half hidden under snows,
Broken boughs and blackened leaves.
For all things turn to barrenness
In the dim glass the demons hold,
The glass of outer weariness,
Made when God slept in times of old.
There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought;
Flying, crying, to and fro,
Cruel claw and hungry throat,
Or else they stand and sniff the wind,
And shake their ragged wings: alas!
Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
Gaze no more in the bitter glass.
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling branches bear.
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart,
Thine eyes grow full of tender care;
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
William Butler Yeats ( 1865 - 1939 )
Image, 'A View Into The Tree Canopy' used with kind permission from Adrienne Goodenough from her beautiful blog 'Adrienne's Adventures'. Thank you so much Adrienne! ♥
Please follow these links to see Adrienne's other amazing photographs.
12 comments:
Hi Dianne..beautiful words..
wow!
beautiful pic & poem
trees here are budding/blossoming
× × ×
/t.
Dianne,
i have enjoyed this poem.
Yeats had a very peripherical vision and culture. A great poet indeed!....
'Beloved...Gaze in thine own heart...the holy tree is there'....the sweetness in those words is so uncontainable, My tree is bursting with joy....
i would also like to thankyou again for your sweet words, i love your presence and your proximity. i can feel all the goodness and love that overflows from you. i just wanted you to know it!
Hugs
Col
gaze no more in the bitter glass..
wow..
what a poem.
what a photo.
thanks for sharing.
Thanks dear HLiza , yes, Yeats certainly did write some beautiful words, I love this poem. xoxoxo ♡
Thank you dear /t.
Yes, Keat's poem is beautiful and I was very fortunate to get permission to use the wonderful photograph.
I am so pleased that your trees are budding and blossoming, something very lovely about that, the promise of the beauty which is just about to burst forth. xoxoxo ♡
Some photos would be nice! :)
Thank you dearest Col
Yes Keats certainly was a great poet and was very in tune with nature, there is so much in this poem if one looks beyond the words and feels the emotions which they evoke ... this is one of my favourite poems.
And yes 'Beloved, gaze in thine own heart ... The holy tree is growing there'... 'And made my lips and music wed' ... how beautiful that is!
This poem is very visual to me and evokes all kinds of images, some beautiful and some frightening, but it mostly visions of loveliness.
Thak you for your very lovely compliment, I am a very loving and affectionate person and not ashamed to say so ... I guess that does show through in my writing but sometimes being this way gets me into trouble.
Yes dear friend I am in your presence and proximity and only a few words or a poem away from you.
Hugs to you also
Dianne xoxoxo ♡
Thank you dearest Foamy
Yes it is a 'wow' poem
and the image is beautiful
and I shall never 'Gaze into the Bitter Glass' again, I shall look into my own heart and nature for my happiness.
I wanted to share this poem as it is so beautiful, I'm so pleased that you enjoyed it. xoxoxo ♡
I'm a Pug. I think you KNOW where I stand on trees (usually right next to them).
xoxox
Yes Puggles my sweet, I do KNOW how fond you are of trees ... so am I but for entirely different reasons I would say. :)
Thank you for stopping by. xoxoxo ♡
A beautiful lyrical poetry with a very deep by this author until now unknown to me. To read it for an entire afternoon. Greetings.
Yes dear Leovi it is a beautiful,magical, lyrical poem ... I have put a link here to a musical arrangement of the poem by famous Canadian singer Loreena McKennitt, it begins with a solo on the Uillean Pipes then moves onto a beautiful melody with the voice of Loreena McKennitt.
The Youtube video is quite old so the quality is now not perfect but it is worth listening to.
Saludos. xoxoxo ♡
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