The Lake isle Of Innesfree

by William Butler Yeats

　　And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:

　　Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

　　And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

　　And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

　　Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings;

　　There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

　　And evening full of the linnet's wings.

　　I will arise and go now, for always night and day

　　I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

　　While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

　　I hear it in the deep heart's core.