Read my works

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,…

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths…

When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look…