| God grant a blessing on this tower and cottage
And on my heirs, if all remain unspoiled, No table or chair or stool not simple enough For shepherd lads in Galilee; and grant That I myself for portions of the year May handle nothing and set eyes on nothing But what the great and passionate have used Throughout so many varying centuries We take it from the norm; yet should I dream Sinbad the Sailor's brought a painted chest, Or image, from beyond the Loadstone Mountain, That dream is a norm; and should some limb of the Devil Destroy the view by cutting down an ash That shades the road, or setting up a cottage Planned in a government office, shorten his life, Manacle his soul upon the Red Sea bottom. |
Hah! Old W.B. Yeats sure knew how to curse and condemn his enemies. One could even suspect that he had little time for petty bureaucrats. Shall take that as a b'neath-my-breath curse:
'May your soul be manacled upon the Red Sea bottom!'