Thoor Ballylee and Coole Park

I am back! I said I would write about Thoor Ballylee and Coole Park, Granted, now I have forgotten what I thought was so great about them, but here goes anyway. And I will most likely put up another one today as well, but I didn't want to combine them because I am planning on just taking my blog and turning it into one of those photo books. 

Yeats' Tower

On Tuesday we went first to Thoor Ballylee, the tower where Yeats and his wife lived. There were two bridges on the property but during WWII one of the bridges was blown up. The story goes that this man showed up and told Lady George (Yeats’ wife) that he needed to blow up the bridge, so she and Yeats went into the tower, he blew it up and waved and yelled “thanks!” as he left the property. The literature prof, Gerard O’Brien, read us some of Yeats’ poems next to the two creeks that combine at the base of the tower. I think everything sounds better when read in an Irish accent. 

Lady Gregory's autograph tree

We then travelled to Coole Park, home of Lady Gregory, patron of the arts in Ireland. She invited many artists, authors and actors to her home including the likes of WB Yeats and George Bernard Shaw. She was very fond of collecting autographs (when she went to high-profile parties she would bring a fan and have people sign on the spines of the fan) so she had all of the artists, authors, etc. sign this tree in the park at Coole, now dubbed the Autograph Tree. We wandered all about the grounds, stopping at various points for Gerard to read us more poems. I liked the following one, so I included it. Gerard read it to us on the shore of Coole Lake.

The Wild Swans at Coole, W.B. Yeats

THE trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty Swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?

The rest of the week has just been class and hanging around Spiddal. We have had a lot of group gatherings – going out in Galway, walking in to Spiddal, playing cards/other games around the cottages. Today we wanted to make cookies (the classy kind, just add water!) so we went to the hotel kitchen to get a cookie sheet. Geraldine the cook was there and gave us a cookie sheet (and greased it for us), apples, pears, mushrooms, fresh rosemary and a blender (for the mushrooms, so we can have mushroom soup). Then she decided to give us this full sheet pan full of some sherry/strawberry dessert and whipped us up some custard and topped it with other fruit. Gracious!

michelle