Sunday, 4 January, 2015

“Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.” — William Butler Yeats. To mark the 150 years since the birth of W.B. Yeats on 13 June 1865, a year-long event titled Yeats2015 will take place across the world. We’re kicking it off here with that group of distinguished foreigners who visited Jesus after his birth, bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. The poem is filled with symbolism and imagery relating to the never-ending human quest for solace.

The Magi

Now as at all times I can see in the mind’s eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones
Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky
With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,
And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,
And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,
Being by Calvary’s turbulence unsatisfied,
The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.

W.B. Yeats (1865 — 1939)

Filed in: Ireland, Poetry • Tags: , , ,

Comments are closed.