The Bee-Loud Glade

I love the phrase that is the title of this post. Wish I could take credit for it, but it belongs to W.B. Yeats, from his poem, The Lake Isle of Innisfree, which I first read in Cambridge, England in 1986. It has stuck with me since, and, as I was in need of my own place of peace on Friday (work has taken a marked turn for the worse), I went to Soapstone Basin in the Uinta Mountains. There, for a time, heavy-heartedness left me, as I surrounded myself with what I feel is miraculous evidence of a loving God. Here are more photos, interspersed with the poem. Hope you enjoy.

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 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 in the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.