Summary

Portrait of W. B. Yeats W. B. Yeats Stories of Red Hanrahan

Look at me, perishing woods, for my body will be shining like the lake water after you have been hurried away. You and the old race of men, and the race of the beasts, and the race of the fish, and the winged race, are wearing away like a candle that has been burned out. But I laugh out loud, because I am in my youth.'
She did not come back that night or any night to the cabin, and it was not till the end of two days that the turf cutters going to the bog found the body of Red Owen Hanrahan, and gathered men to wake him and women to keen him, and gave him a burying worthy of so great a poet.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of W. B. Yeats W. B. Yeats Stories of Red Hanrahan

O Death's old bony finger Will never find us there In the high hollow townland Where love's to give and to spare; Where boughs have fruit and blossom At all times of the year; Where rivers are running over With red beer and brown beer. An old man plays the bagpipes In a gold and silver wood; Queens, their eyes blue like the ice, Are dancing in a crowd. The little fox he murmured, 'O what of the world's bane?' The sun was laughing sweetly, The moon plucked at my rein
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of W. B. Yeats W. B. Yeats Stories of Red Hanrahan

But the little red fox murmured, 'O do not pluck at his rein, He is riding to the townland That is the world's bane.' When their hearts are so high That they would come to blows, They unhook their heavy swords From golden and silver boughs: But all that are killed in battle Awaken to life again: It is lucky that their story Is not known among men. For O, the strong farmers That would let the spade lie, Their hearts would be like a cup That somebody had drunk dry.
Source: Gutenberg

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