January 6, 2021
Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams;
Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
Mentioning W.B. Yeats in yesterday’s post brought the following to mind. Lines from a poem he wrote for Augusta Gregory, The Shadowy Waters.
I had not eyes like those enchanted eyes,
Yet dreamed that beings happier than men
Moved around me in the shadows, and at night
My dreams were cloven by voices and by fires;
And the images I have woven in this story
Moved round me in the voices and the fires,
And more I may not write of, for they that cleave
The waters of sleep can make a chattering tongue
Heavy like stone, their wisdom being half silence.
How shall I name you, immortal, mild, proud shadows?
I only know that all we know comes from you…
Indeed. Ancestral wisdom.
Judith – firstname.lastname@example.org