At Stratford-On-Avon

  • W. B. Yeats


I have been hearing Shakespeare as the traveller in News from. Nowhere might have heard him, had he not been hurried back into our noisy time. One passes through quiet streets, where gabled and red-tiled houses remember the Middle Ages, to a theatre that has been made not to make money, but for the pleasure of making it, like the market-houses that set the traveller chuckling; nor does one find it among hurrying cabs and ringing pavements, but in a green garden by a riverside. Inside I have to be content for a while with a chair, for I am unexpected, and there is not an empty seat but this; and yet there is no one who has come merely because one must go somewhere after dinner. All day, too, one does not hear or see an incongruous or noisy thing, but spends the hours reading the plays, and the wise and foolish things men have said of them, in the library of the theatre, with its oak-panelled walls and leaded windows of tinted glass; or one rows by reedy banks and by old farmhouses, and by old churches among great trees.


Greek Myth Foreign Tale Empty Seat Henry Versus Tinted Glass 
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Copyright information

© Mrs W. B. Yeats 1961

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  • W. B. Yeats

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