I'm a writer who lives in Brooklyn, N.Y. I like poetry and fiction and have had some pieces published in literary journals. I've dedicated this blog to writing, fiction and poetry posts.
Michael Robartes Bids his Beloved be at Peace, by WB Yeats
HEAR the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake,
Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white;
The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night,
The East her hidden joy before the morning break,
The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away,
The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire:
O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire,
The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay:
Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat
Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
Drowning love’s lonely hour in deep twilight of rest,
And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous feet.
Those “Horses of Destruction,” in Irish folklore, are the gods of nature and chaos, who are associated with the horses of Manannan, who reign over the country of the dead.
Others have associated the horses with the North, East, South, and West as the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, but any way you look at it, the poem is referring to an ominous event, and the narrator, Michael Robartes, is saying goodbye to his love.
Some of the reference material in my school’s law library is, shall we say, well used. See the tape holding the page in place? I added it since the page was falling out.