Monologue

The Spirit Monologue from The Land of Heart's Desire

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

any · melancholic · 38 sec

We come unwillingly, for she whose gold We must now carry to the house in the woods Is dear to all our race. On the green plain, Beside the sea, a hundred shepherds live To mind her sheep; and when the nightfall comes They leave a hundred pans of white ewes’ milk Outside their doors, to feed us when the dawn Has driven us out of Finbar’s ancient house, And broken the long dance under the hill.

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