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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=537250" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Municipal Gallery Revisited</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">AROUND me the images of thirty years:<br>An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side;<br>Casement upon trial, half hidden by the bars,<br>Guarded; Griffith staring in hysterical pride;<br>Kevin O'Higgins' countenance that wears<br>A gentle questioning look that cannot hide<br>A soul incapable of remorse or rest;<br>A revolutionary soldier kneeling to be blessed;<br>An Abbot or Archbishop with an upraised hand<br>Blessing the Tricolour. 'This is not,' I say,<br>'The dead Ireland of my youth, but an Ireland<br>The poets have imagined, terrible and gay.'<br>Before a woman's portrait suddenly I stand,<br>Beautiful and gentle in her Venetian way.<br>I met her all but fifty years ago<br>For twenty minutes in some studio.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III<br>Heart-smitten with emotion I Sink down,<br>My heart recovering with covered eyes;<br>Wherever I had looked I had looked upon<br>My permanent or impermanent images:<br>Augusta Gregory's son; her sister's son,<br>Hugh Lane, 'onlie begetter' of all these;<br>Hazel Lavery living and dying, that tale<br>As though some ballad-singer had sung it all;<br>Mancini's portrait of Augusta Gregory,<br>'Greatest since Rembrandt,' according to John Synge;<br>A great ebullient portrait certainly;<br>But where is the brush that could show anything<br>Of all that pride and that humility?<br>And I am in despair that time may bring<br>Approved patterns of women or of men<br>But not that selfsame excellence again.<br>My mediaeval knees lack health until they bend,<br>But in that woman, in that household where<br>Honour had lived so long, all lacking found.<br>Childless I thought, 'My children may find here<br>Deep-rooted things,' but never foresaw its end,<br>And now that end has come I have not wept;<br>No fox can foul the lair the badger swept --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI<br>(An image out of Spenser and the common tongue).<br>John Synge, I and Augusta Gregory, thought<br>All that we did, all that we said or sang<br>Must come from contact with the soil, from that<br>Contact everything Antaeus-like grew strong.<br>We three alone in modern times had brought<br>Everything down to that sole test again,<br>Dream of the noble and the beggar-man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII<br>And here's John Synge himself, that rooted man,<br>'Forgetting human words,' a grave deep face.<br>You that would judge me, do not judge alone<br>This book or that, come to this hallowed place<br>Where my friends' portraits hang and look thereon;<br>Ireland's history in their lineaments trace;<br>Think where man's glory most begins and ends,<br>And say my glory was I had such friends.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Butler+Yeats">William Butler Yeats</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=537250" data-title="The Municipal Gallery Revisited de William Butler Yeats" data-description="AROUND me the images of thirty years:
An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side;
Casement upon trial, half hidden by the bars,
Guarded; Griffith staring in hysterical pride;
Kevin O'Higgins' countenance that wears
A gentle questioning look that cannot..."></div>
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