Preliminary Assignment

Shannon

Part 1: After making many attempts to locate a specific picture of my great grandfather, who was born and raised in Ireland, I chose this photo of a live Irish band. The musicians look happy and excited to be creating this music, and the spectators seem to be thoroughly enjoying the performance. This, while perhaps stereotypical, is the mental picture I have when I think of traditional Irish music.


THERE is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing
Because it was your prayer
Recovered him upon the bed of death.
For your sole sake - that all heart's ache have known,
And given to others all heart's ache,
From meagre girlhood's putting on
Burdensome beauty - for your sole sake
Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom,
So great her portion in that peace you make
By merely walking in a room.
Your beauty can but leave among us
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
A young man when the old men are done talking
Will say to an old man,
"Tell me of that lady
The poet stubborn with his passion sang us
When age might well have chilled his blood.
'Vague memories, nothing but memories,
But in the grave all, all, shall be renewed.
The certainty that I shall see that lady
Leaning or standing or walking
In the first loveliness of womanhood,
And with the fervour of my youthful eyes,
Has set me muttering like a fool.
You are more beautiful than any one,
And yet your body had a flaw:
Your small hands were not beautiful,
And I am afraid that you will run
And paddle to the wrist
In that mysterious, always brimming lake
Where those
What have obeyed the holy lawpaddle and are perfect.
Leave unchanged
The hands that I have kissed,For old sake's sake.
The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme
I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

This is a William Butler Yeats poem entitled "The Broken Promise" William Butler Yeats, an Irish writer, has always been my favorite poet.

Part 3:

I am in this class primarily for genealogical reasons, because my mother's family comes from Ireland. I am also fascinated by Irish culture, particularly music and food. I look forward to experiencing a variety of different aspects of Irish culture in this class.