Adept Cycle · Blog Challenge · Rising

NaNo Blog Interrupted

Hello there from EditLand!

Rising is back from my editor, and I’ve spent this weekend plowing through the final copy edit.

ONLY SIX DAYS LEFT!

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Last night, I realized I have a finite amount of words in my bucket for one day; after editing a good 150 pages, I had a hard time forming sentences or finding those difficult words like…you know, like “Hey hon, will you hand me that… um… thing…”  “You mean the cutting board?” “Yeah, that thing.”

So, in lieu of attempting to squeeze more words out of my brain in blog form, until I’m done editing, you’ll have to settle for someone else’s words.

Today, I’ll share a poem that you all should have read at some point. If you haven’t… well, here’s your chance. In Rising, you’ll get a glimpse of why Yeats wrote this poem.

If you’d like, you can listen to Loreena McKennitt sing it while you read.

The Stolen Child

Where dips the rocky highlandOf Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy islandWhere flapping herons wakeThe drowsy water rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berriesAnd 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 gray 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
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