Cast a cold eye on life, on death. Horseman pass by.

Photo taken a good number of years ago, cycling past Yeats grave below the shadow of Ben Bulben mountain…
My mum was a speech and drama teacher
She introduced us to Yeats when we were kids
And lit a fire in me that’s never gone out 😌

Of all the words Yeats said and wrote from birth to death he left us with a final few, etched in limestone…

…Under bare Ben Bulben's head
In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid,
An ancestor was rector there
Long years ago; a church stands near,
By the road an ancient Cross.
No marble, no conventional phrase,
On limestone quarried near the spot
By his command these words are cut:

Cast a cold eye
On life, on death.
Horseman, pass by!