[this photo is so gorgeous, i had to use it. it is from flickr.]
Dance there upon the shore;
What need have you to care
For wind or water's roar?
And tumble out your hair
That the salt drops have wet;
Being young you have not known
The fool's triumph, nor yet
Love lost as soon as won,
Nor the best labourer dead
And all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread
The monstrous crying of wind?
W.B Yeats, to a child dancing in the wind.
This poem is sad, rather like the 'crying of wind' itself. The speaker is lamenting his lost youth, his lost innocence, the fact that he can no longer dance on the beach in the carefree manner of children. The danger of life has entered his conscience, the water and wind pose no threat. I wonder if i am reaching the age where i can no longer dance in the wind? I should like to hope not, but then, perhaps...
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