“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.