Some days I feel like running away to the "waters and the wild" as expressed by WB Yeats in his famous poem "Stolen Child". There on some enchanted island to dance and frolick wildly and freely. Loreena's version is so beautiful and alluring. Especially on those days one becomes conscious of the time we are living in and the approaching of a new Darkness and a false Christ represented by Yeats in his poem "The Second Coming" when the Beast as the Sphinx of Egypt (representing occultism and freemasonry) comes to masquerade as the Christ by being born in Bethlehem. It would seem that Yeats had come to realise later in life the evil behind his earlier interest and involvement in occultism and freemasonry.
The Stolen Child
WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.
THE SECOND COMING
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
And then on other days I just want to hide in the Dark Night of Our Lady's womb the first Tabernacle of Her Son and enter into the sufferings of her Son so abandoned in all the Tabernacles of the World. Loreena McKennitt sings one of St John of the Cross' spiritual canticles "Dark Night of the Soul".
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
And then on other days I just want to hide in the Dark Night of Our Lady's womb the first Tabernacle of Her Son and enter into the sufferings of her Son so abandoned in all the Tabernacles of the World. Loreena McKennitt sings one of St John of the Cross' spiritual canticles "Dark Night of the Soul".
Dark Night of the Soul
Upon a darkened nightthe flame of love was burning in my breastAnd by a lantern brightI fled my house while all in quiet rest
Shrouded by the nightAnd by the secret stair I quickly fledThe veil concealed my eyeswhile all within lay quiet as the dead
Chorus:Oh night thou was my guideof night more loving than the rising sunOh night that joined the loverto the beloved onetransforming each of them into the other
Upon that misty nightin secrecy, beyond such mortal sightWithout a guide or lightthan that which burned so deeply in my heartThat fire t'was led me onand shone more bright than of the midday sunTo where he waited stillit was a place where no one else could come
(Chorus)
Within my pounding heartwhich kept itself entirely for himHe fell into his sleepbeneath the cedars all my love I gaveFrom o'er the fortress wallsthe wind would his hair against his browAnd with its smoothest handcaressed my every sense it would allow
(Chorus)
I lost myself to himand laid my face upon my lover's breastAnd care and grief grew dimas in the morning's mist became the lightThere they dimmed amongst the lilies fairthere they dimmed amongst the lilies fairthere they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
Upon a darkened nightthe flame of love was burning in my breastAnd by a lantern brightI fled my house while all in quiet rest
Shrouded by the nightAnd by the secret stair I quickly fledThe veil concealed my eyeswhile all within lay quiet as the dead
Chorus:Oh night thou was my guideof night more loving than the rising sunOh night that joined the loverto the beloved onetransforming each of them into the other
Upon that misty nightin secrecy, beyond such mortal sightWithout a guide or lightthan that which burned so deeply in my heartThat fire t'was led me onand shone more bright than of the midday sunTo where he waited stillit was a place where no one else could come
(Chorus)
Within my pounding heartwhich kept itself entirely for himHe fell into his sleepbeneath the cedars all my love I gaveFrom o'er the fortress wallsthe wind would his hair against his browAnd with its smoothest handcaressed my every sense it would allow
(Chorus)
I lost myself to himand laid my face upon my lover's breastAnd care and grief grew dimas in the morning's mist became the lightThere they dimmed amongst the lilies fairthere they dimmed amongst the lilies fairthere they dimmed amongst the lilies fair