I received the following poem by
Yeats from our good friend, IT.

Now all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honour bred, with one
Who, were it proved he lies,
Were neither shamed in his own
Nor in his neighbours’ eyes?

Bred to a harder thing
Than Triumph, turn away
And like a laughing string
Whereon mad fingers play
Amid a place of stone,
Be secret and exult,
Because of all things known
That is most difficult.



  1. Well played, IT. Well played.

    And, I hope you don’t mind, but I have embraced this wonderful piece of verse as speaking to my own situation as well as that of our dear MadPriest. It is consoling and strengthening.

    Thank you.

  2. It has given me solace over the years.

    Here’s another Yeats poem that is often appropriate:

    Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
    Enwrought with golden and silver light,
    The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
    Of night and light and the half-light,
    I would spread the cloths under your feet:
    But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
    I have spread my dreams under your feet;
    Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

  3. Oh, thank you for this, IT. It has, actually, long been one of my favorite Yeats poems and it’s lovely to be reminded of it.

    I particularly love the line, “Of night and light and the half-light” for some reason. There is such a sense of mystery there and mindfulness at the same time.