Sorry for the hiatus, but my last fortnight was spent treading the cobbled streets and damp countryside of Dublin and the surrounding country. If you don't mind, I will dedicate the next several blog posts to Irish excursions and my general musings of the culture. (Or at least my brief glimpse of it.)
A quick highlight. In the picture below, barely visibly on the upper right hand side, on the back of a post card of some sort sits the original, hand-written verse of W.B. Yeat's He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven. Why the excitement? Aside from this poem being a personal favorite, it was also the inspiration in naming this blog.
Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
From the hand of the poet himself. On display at the National Library of Ireland.
I am already missing the charcoal smell in the air, the endless twilights, the huge expanse of beach at North Bull Island, the white and black pudding, the bipolar weather, and above all, the family. I must admit, though, during my walk up 5th ave from work this evening, just for about 2 minutes I felt like laughing and sprawling out on the wet sidewalk, inhaling the smell of manure and burnt pretzels in front of Central Park. Maybe it's happiness to be back in the Big Apple? Maybe it's jet lag.
Nighttime shot of Trinity College.
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