(no subject)

[tylik]

stolen_tea sent this, saying it reminded him of me. (Aw.) He in turn had gotten it from hca. It is from Yeats's "On Baile's Strand".

Anyhow, I loved the imagery...

Conchubar: Ah! I remember I have heard you boast,
When the ale was in your blood, that there was one
In Scotland, where you had learnt the trade of war,
That had a stone-pale cheek and red-brown hair;
And that although you had loved other women,
You'd sooner that fierce woman of the camp
Bore you a son than any queen among them.

Cuchulain: You call her a 'fierce woman of the camp,'
For, having lived among the spinning-wheels,
You'd have no woman near that would not say,
'Ah! how wise!' and 'What will you have for supper?'
'What shall I wear that I may please you, sir?'
And keep that humming through the day and night
For ever. A fierce woman of the camp!
But I am getting angry about nothing.
You have never seen her. Ah, Conchubar, had you seen her
With that high, laughing, turbulent head of hers
Thrown backward, and the bowstring at her ear,
Or sitting at the fire with those grave eyes
Full of good council as it were wine,
Or when love ran through all the lineaments
Of her wild body - although she had no child,
None other had all beauty, queen or lover,
Or was so fitted to give birth to kings