she [y]eats the apple.

In Modern Poetry, we're a-reading some Yeats.

Coincidentally, my brother is reading Yeats in his Irish Literature class. Brother dear dislikes Yeats dear immensely. But I'm kind of in love with Yeats.

I hadn't read any of his poems before. Literally, nothing. My poetry reading is pretty strictly limited to school assignments and a passionate, unrequited love of Auden, Eliot and Heaney.

But in Modern Poetry, I've fallen in love with Yeats.

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,	5
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;	10
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

I really love how the images of community "hive for the honey bee" and "on the roadway" are contrasted with the idea of escaping to a world of solitude.