I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket
There midnight’s all a glimmer, 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.
When I bought my house, it was an abused old thing of confused design and a broad range of construction defects. It was in need of paint, a new roof, a new boiler, a new oil tank, and some serious re-plumbing and electrical work. The hot water handle in the bathtub was a pair of vice-grip pliers.
The day after the closing, I sat on what would become the patio, under an arbor of desiccated wood, and planned all that I needed to do to make it a structure capable of supporting life. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, while sitting in one of those absurd plastic Adirondack chairs that one may find hardware stores for about ten bucks, I breathed in a potent perfume of honeysuckle. I realized that the honeysuckle was mine and that made all the difference. I then thought of this poem, and Yeats' "bee-loud glade", and knew everything would be alright. And it was.