Maurteen Bruin Monologue from The Land of Heart's Desire

From The Land of Heart's Desire by W.B. Yeats

male · contemplative · 1:04 min

I do not rightly know; It has been in the thatch for fifty years. My father told me my grandfather wrote it, Killed a red heifer and bound it with the hide. But draw your chair this way—supper is spread. And little good he got out of the book, Because it filled his house with roaming bards, And roaming ballad-makers and the like, And wasted all his goods.—Here is the wine: The griddle bread’s beside you, Father Hart. Colleen, what have you got there in the book That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I, Or had my father, read or written books There were no stocking full of silver and gold To come, when I am dead, to Shawn and you.

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