The Fisherman – Poem by William Butler Yeats
The Fisherman – Poem by William Butler Yeats
ALTHOUGH I can see him still.
The freckled man who goes
To a grey place on a hill
In grey Connemara clothes
At dawn to cast his flies,
It’s long since I began
To call up to the eyes
This wise and simple man.
All day I’d looked in the face
What I had hoped ‘twould be
To write for my own race
And the reality;
The living men that I hate,
The dead man that I loved,
The craven man in his seat,
The insolent unreproved,
And no knave brought to book
Who has won a drunken cheer,
The witty man and his joke
Aimed at the commonest ear,
The clever man who cries
The catch-cries of the clown,
The beating down of the wise
And great Art beaten down.
Maybe a twelvemonth since
Suddenly I began,
In scorn of this audience,
Imagining a man,
And his sun-freckled face,
And grey Connemara cloth,
Climbing up to a place
Where stone is dark under froth,
And the down-turn of his wrist
When the flies drop in the stream;
A man who does not exist,
A man who is but a dream;
And cried, ‘Before I am old
I shall have written him one
poem maybe as cold
And passionate as the dawn.’
William Butler Yeats
When the Fishing Boats Go Out , By: Lucy Montgomery
When the Fishing Boats Go Out
Lucy Montgomery
When the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more,
And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore,
And o’er the arch of heaven pied films of vapor float.
There’s joyance and there’s freedom when the fishing boats go out.
The wind is blowing freshly up from far, uncharted caves,
And sending sparkling kisses o’er the brows of virgin waves,
While routed dawn-mists shiveroh, far and fast they flee,
Pierced by the shafts of sunrise athwart the merry sea!
Behind us, fair, light-smitten hills in dappled splendor lie,
Before us the wide ocean runs to meet the limpid sky
Our hearts are full of poignant life, and care has fled afar
As sweeps the white-winged fishing fleet across the harbor bar.
The sea is calling to us in a blithesome voice and free,
There’s keenest rapture on its breast and boundless liberty!
Each man is master of his craft, its gleaming sails out-blown,
And far behind him on the shore a home he calls his own.
Salt is the breath of ocean slopes and fresher blows the breeze,
And swifter still each bounding keel cuts through the combing seas,
Athwart our masts the shadows of the dipping sea-gulls float,
And all the water-world’s alive when the fishing boats go out.
Friday Poetry : The fisherman and his boat, Raghu Menon
The fisherman and his boat
Patiently he untangles the net
Standing calmly
Brazing the breeze
On the dancing boat
With an oar on its side
Which is cooled by the
Waters of the river..
The sun will set in an hour or so
And he has to finish his catch
Before the dusk
And back to his hut
Where his wife will
Waiting eagerly
To make the dinner
With the fresh catch
Another day
Another catch
The river but
Remains the same
Greeting the fishermen
Who roam the river
With their boats
Raghu Menon
Sunset over Cardigan bay
Wales
August 2017 Nigel Borrington
A Sketch of two fishing boats, Keem Strand, Achill Island, Co. Mayo
Two fishing boat
Keem Strand
Achill Island
County Mayo
When the fishing boats go out , Poem and Images, By L. M. Montgomery
When the fishing boats go out.
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington
WHEN THE FISHING BOATS GO OUT
By L. M. Montgomery
WHEN the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more,
And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore,
And o’er the arch of heaven pied films of vapor float.
There’s joyance and there’s freedom when the fishing boats go out.
The wind is blowing freshly up from far, uncharted caves,
And sending sparkling kisses o’er the brows of virgin waves,
While routed dawn-mists shiver–oh, far and fast they flee,
Pierced by the shafts of sunrise athwart the merry sea!
Behind us, fair, light-smitten hills in dappled splendor lie,
Before us the wide ocean runs to meet the limpid sky–
Our hearts are full of poignant life, and care has fled afar
As sweeps the white-winged fishing fleet across the harbor bar.
The sea is calling to us in a blithesome voice and free,
There’s keenest rapture on its breast and boundless liberty!
Each man is master of his craft, its gleaming sails out-blown,
And far behind him on the shore a home he calls his own.
Salt is the breath of ocean slopes and fresher blows the breeze,
And swifter still each bounding keel cuts through the combing seas,
Athwart our masts the shadows of the dipping sea-gulls float,
And all the water-world’s alive when the fishing boats go out.
The Harbour, Poem By : Winifred Mary Letts
The Harbour, Poem
By : Winifred Mary Letts
I think if I lay dying in some land
Where Ireland is no more than just a name,
My soul would travel back to find that strand
From whence it came.
I’d see the harbour in the evening light,
The old men staring at some distant ship,
The fishing boats they fasten left and right
Beside the slip.
The fishing boat rests along the shore,
The grey thorn bushes growing in the sand,
Our Wexford coast from Arklow to Cahore –
My native land.
The little houses climbing up the hill
Sea daises growing in the sandy grass,
The tethered goats that wait large -eyed and still
To watch you pass.
The women at the well with dripping pails,
Their men colloguing by the harbour wall,
The coils of rope, the nets, the old brown sails,
I’d know them all.
And then the sun- I’d surely see
The disk against a golden sky.
Would let me be at my rest.
The fishing boats of Galway bay (Image gallery)
Fishing boats at Galway bay, county Galway
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington
The landscape around Galway bay is one of the most beautiful in Ireland , offering long walks along sandy beach’s and scenic fishing bays.
The photographs below are from such a walk I took about two years ago during an Easter holiday in the area.
Fishing boats at Galway bay, Gallery
Killybegs, County Donegal
Killybegs, County Donegal
Irish landscape photography : Nigel Borrington
Killybegs, County Donegal
Killybegs has a long History with the Irish fishing industry and is one of the top fishing port in the country.
The town is located on the South West Donegal Pennisula, it is an ideal place to base yourself when visiting the North West of Ireland, with locations such as the sea cliffs at Sliabh League.
The day I took these images I spent hours just watching the fishing boats unload, slowly walking along the harbour and taking images of the boats and some views of the town. This is a great location to visit and a festival is held here at the start of August each year which includes music and family entertainment – all live on the festival stage in the centre of the town.
Killybegs, County Donegal: Gallery
A river Suir walk in September.
All images using a Sigma SD1
The river Suir, Carrick-on-suir, in September
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington
A September morning walk along the river Suir brings some wonderfull views.
A light mist is lifting from the water and out of it are visible two of the much locally loved fishing boats, it getting to the time of year when they will be lifted out of the water and repainted but for now they still rest, slowly moving in the rivers flow.
Fishing Boats on the river Suir : A Gallery
Sunday evening at Galway bay, a fishing boat.
Images taken using a Nikon D700
A Fishing boat at Galway bay
Irish landscape photography : Nigel Borrington
Sunday evening at Galway bay
One Sunday evening last year while visiting Galway bay, we went for a walk along the shoreline.
We came across this fishing boat resting in a small bay, I felt this image pictures Sunday evening very well.
Rested during the weekend, but ready to start again on Monday morning, just not yet !
