“An aged man is but a paltry thing,

a tattered coat upon a stick unless

soul clap it’s hands and sing and louder sing…”

 

Yeats caught my attention when I was young

and he sailing to Byzantium.

His skill with words, the power of his feelings,

his imagery, all hugely appealing.

 

The pride of Ireland, a national treasure,

a gifted one by which greats can measure

how they compare to my fellow Irish man,

this monument we fly a flag on.

 

So thanks WB for these feelings inside,

for instilling this feeling of national pride,

for making me feel a fraction more worthy

‘cos you are from the same place as me.