Through a Field of Fallen Silence

Sad girl, sad girl,
Sad girl in the snow,
She moves through falling silence,
And pensively she goes.

She passes broken fences,
And stalks of withered grass,
Through a field of fallen silence
With her would I pass.

She shivers in her sweater
As the grey of twilight grows,
Wrapped in the softness,
Silent in snow;

With eyes of falling winter,
Quiet and sad,
Through a field of fallen silence
With her would I pass.

(apologies to WB Yeats)
================================
To an Isle in the Water
William Butler Yeats


Shy one, shy one,
Shy one of my heart,
She moves in the firelight
Pensively apart.

She carries in the dishes,
And lays them in a row.
To an isle in the water
With her would I go.

She carries in the candles,
and lights the curtained room,
Shy in the doorway
And shy in the gloom;

And shy as a rabbit,
Helpful and shy.
To an isle in the water
With her would I fly.

This is one of Yeats' early poems. It is not one of his poems that you will find quoted often in courses, or studied by academics. Yet, every time I read it, I simply can't believe what I'm seeing. I mean, look at it! It commits all of the sins your teachers tell you to avoid: it is repetitive, the meter is too constant, and the rhymes are too exact. And yet, it is elegant in its simplicity, and wistful in its imagery. It's one of those poems that makes me feel my own inadequacies all too keenly. I still can't believe I had the temerity to filk it.

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