1

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,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.–William Butler Yeats (The Stolen Child)

1

‘We lay, my love and I

Beneath the weeping willow

But now alone I lie

And weep beside the tree

Singing “Oh willow waly”

By the tree that weeps with me

Singing “Oh willow waly”

Till my lover returns to me

We lay, my love and I

Beneath the weeping willow

But now alone I lie

Oh willow I die

Oh willow I die…’

—George Auric & Paul Dehn (O Willow Waly)