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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=537344" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Under Ben Bulben</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SWEAR by what the sages spoke<br>Round the Mareotic Lake<br>That the Witch of Atlas knew,<br>Spoke and set the cocks a-crow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Swear by those horsemen, by those women<br>Complexion and form prove superhuman,<br>That pale, long-visaged company<br>That air in immortality<br>Completeness of their passions won;<br>Now they ride the wintry dawn<br>Where Ben Bulben sets the scene.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here s the gist of what they mean.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Many times man lives and dies<br>Between his two eternities,<br>That of race and that of soul,<br>And ancient Ireland knew it all.<br>Whether man die in his bed<br>Or the rifle knocks him dead,<br>A brief parting from those dear<br>Is the worst man has to fear.<br>Though grave-diggers' toil is long,<br>Sharp their spades, their muscles strong.<br>They but thrust their buried men<br>Back in the human mind again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You that Mitchel's prayer have heard,<br>'Send war in our time, O Lord!'<br>Know that when all words are said<br>And a man is fighting mad,<br>Something drops from eyes long blind,<br>He completes his partial mind,<br>For an instant stands at ease,<br>Laughs aloud, his heart at peace.<br>Even the wisest man grows tense<br>With some sort of violence<br>Before he can accomplish fate,<br>Know his work or choose his mate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poet and sculptor, do the work,<br>Nor let the modish painter shirk<br>What his great forefathers did.<br>Bring the soul of man to God,<br>Make him fill the cradles right.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Measurement began our might:<br>Forms a stark Egyptian thought,<br>Forms that gentler phidias wrought.<br>Michael Angelo left a proof<br>On the Sistine Chapel roof,<br>Where but half-awakened Adam<br>Can disturb globe-trotting Madam<br>Till her bowels are in heat,<br>proof that there's a purpose set<br>Before the secret working mind:<br>Profane perfection of mankind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Quattrocento put in paint<br>On backgrounds for a God or Saint<br>Gardens where a soul's at ease;<br>Where everything that meets the eye,<br>Flowers and grass and cloudless sky,<br>Resemble forms that are or seem<br>When sleepers wake and yet still dream.<br>And when it's vanished still declare,<br>With only bed and bedstead there,<br>That heavens had opened.<br>Gyres run on;<br>When that greater dream had gone<br>Calvert and Wilson, Blake and Claude,<br>Prepared a rest for the people of God,<br>Palmer's phrase, but after that<br>Confusion fell upon our thought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Irish poets, earn your trade,<br>Sing whatever is well made,<br>Scorn the sort now growing up<br>All out of shape from toe to top,<br>Their unremembering hearts and heads<br>Base-born products of base beds.<br>Sing the peasantry, and then<br>Hard-riding country gentlemen,<br>The holiness of monks, and after<br>Porter-drinkers' randy laughter;<br>Sing the lords and ladies gay<br>That were beaten into the clay<br>Through seven heroic centuries;<br>Cast your mind on other days<br>That we in coming days may be<br>Still the indomitable Irishry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under bare Ben Bulben's head<br>In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid.<br>An ancestor was rector there<br>Long years ago, a church stands near,<br>By the road an ancient cross.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No marble, no conventional phrase;<br>On limestone quarried near the spot<br>By his command these words are cut:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cast a cold eye<br>On life, on death.<br>Horseman, pass by!</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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SWEAR by what the sages spoke
Round the Mareotic Lake
That the Witch of Atlas knew,
Spoke and set the cocks a-crow.

Swear by those horsemen, by those women
Complexion and form prove superhuman,
That pale, long-visaged company
That air in immor..."></div>
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