You are warmly invited to our Sacred West of Ireland Tours.
W B Yeats, Ireland’s greatest poet, grew up near here in Sligo in the West of Ireland. And one of our Tours, Tour C takes you round the shores of Loch Gill where W B Yeats was inspired to write so much of his poetry.
See: https://www.druidforestschool.com/tours.html
In this Tour, we explore the fairy energies of Slish Wood where W B Yeats was inspired to write The Stolen Child, and we read this and other poems.
We hear about the contribution of W B Yeats, Lady Gregory, AE and Ella Young and others in opening the door to connection to the Gods and the Goddesses of the ancient Irish once again: to the Tuatha De Danaan.
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.
To join this very special magical, poetic and visionary tour of beautiful Loch Goll in Sligo in the West of Ireland, go to: https://www.druidforestschool.com/tours.html
And we look forward to welcoming you.