Poem for Friday and Salem Witch Shopping

The Withering Of The Boughs 

By William Butler Yeats 

I cried when the moon was mutmuring to the birds:

'Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will,

I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words,

For the roads are unending, and there is no place to my mind.'

The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleepy hill,

And I fell asleep upon lonely Echtge of streams.

No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;

The boughs have withered because I have told them my, dreams.

I know of the leafy paths that the witches take

Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool,

And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake;

I know where a dim moon drifts, where the Danaan kind

Wind and unwind their dances when the light grows cool

On the island lawns, their feet where the pale foam gleams.

No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;

The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.

I know of the sleepy country, where swans fly round

Coupled with golden chains, and sing as they fly.

A king and a queen are wandering there, and the sound

Has made them so happy and hopeless, so deaf and so blind

With wisdom, they wander till all the years have gone by;

I know, and the curlew and peewit on Echtge of streams.

No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;

The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.

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We had rain from before dawn till after dusk on Friday, so I had a quiet indoor day mostly working on a ridiculous personal project that's a lot of fun. Paul worked from home, so we had lunch together and were supervised by cats. Since we forgot to have bangers and mash yesterday for Guy Fawkes Night, we had it today instead. We watched the new episode of Newlyweds, but I'm still not sure I love Tea, Tim, and Jamie enough to put up with the canned laughter. 

Now we're watching Disclosure Day, which has occasional moments that are great -- there could be an entire movie in the throwaway line when Margaret screams "I don't want to be anyone's religion" -- but it's mostly a mediocre conspiracy movie with too many fight scenes that doesn't hold a candle to the magic of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Here's some photos of witch shopping in Salem before Halloween, though Laurie Cabot's Enchanted Shop operates all year: