The Lake Isle of Innisfree

    And a small cabin build there， of clay and wattles made：

    Nine bean-rows will I have there， a hive for the honeybee，

    And live alone in the bee-loud glade¹.

    And I shall have some peace there， for peace comes dropping slow，

    Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings；

    There midnight‘s all a glimmer²， and noon a purple glow，

    And evening full of the linnet‘s wings.

    I will arise and go now， for always night and day

    I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore；

    While I stand on the roadway， or on the pavements grey，

    I hear it in the deep heart‘s core.