On Friday night, Jason and Naomi Gingerich had us over for dinner. We had a delightful time chatting with them over pesto pizza. When the kids were ready for bed, Kris read to Maren (3) while I read to Lydia (7). When all was quiet, the adults wandered outside for a bit.

We looked at the remnants of Jeremy's pond. (Jeremy and Jennifer lived on this land when they were first married.) We looked at the various flowers, including some snapdragons Jason had planted. We strolled to the barn, up into the hayloft, where we climbed a ladder to the eaves to look at some downy white owlings. We ambled back through the neighbor's pasture, down along Bear Creek, past the Watson's old place. (Chris and Corey Watson were friends when I was a kid; I have many pleasant memories of this land.)

As we idled through the gloaming, Jason remarked that it seemed we were wandering through a sort of faery land. This startled me: it was an astute observation, wholly correct, but one that I had not made myself.

"Are you familiar with Yeats' 'The Stolen Child'?" Jason asked. I was not. He related the essentials: it's a poem about a child taken away to live with the faeries.

"We have to leave," Kris said when we'd returned to the house. But we stayed another hour, talking about personal histories, and languages, and religion. I was sent into fits of rapture when Jason fetched a book from the office: Baugh and Cable's History of the English Language, a book I've been seeking for years. (It was a favorite college text.) "Shhh!" Kris scolded. "You'll wake the kids."

When we returned home, I googled "The Stolen Child". I've reproduced it below, but as is my wont, I've removed the poet's line breaks and converted the poem to paragraph form. I believe this does not ruin the effect for those who already love poetry, but helps make it more readable for those less fond of it.

The Stolen Child
by William Butler Yeats

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 berries 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 grey 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 is 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, from a world more full of weeping than he can understand.

A lovely poem: atmospheric and evocative.

Warren, my photography instructor, has been suggesting that I use photography as a means to complement my writing. It might also be interesting to use photography as a means to complement others' writing. For example, I can visualize several photographs to illustrate "The Stolen Child". Something to consider.

Kris was unhappy with my recent daylily photos. I was so obsessed with making macroscopic photographs that I forgot to get a couple of more traditional shots. Fortunately, there are always more daylilies.

I'll be posting more photos to my Flickr photostream later today. I'll also be posting at least one more entry, possibly two.

On this day at foldedspace.org

2003 — Linky Links   It's everyone's favorite: link-dump day! (Also known as "the day on which nobody will comment").

2002 — Bug Bites   My Custom Box programs entered beta-testing yesterday. Here's the list of bugs that we made after only an hour of use.

2001 — Computer Dinosaurs   Custom Box Service runs on ancient Atari 1040ST computers with software custom-written in GFA Basic by my late father.