The sun is bound to show its face today, right?

Well, we're not getting off to a sunny start.

But Brendan will sit up there and keep us entertained and informed as we ride in the rain.

Ooh, that looks impressive.

It's way over there all by itself on the hillside.

It's called Classiebawn Castle.

I looked online and found several pictures from inside. I liked this one.

Lord Mountbatten was living there when the IRA blew up his fishing boat.

Lord Mountbatten, a retired British statesman and cousin to Queen Elizabeth II, was assassinated on 27 August 1979 off the coast of Mullaghmore, Ireland. Thomas McMahon, an Irish republican and a volunteer for the Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA), planted a bomb on Mountbatten's boat, the cabin cruiser Shadow V, during Mountbatten's annual summer trip to Classiebawn Castle, his house on the Mullaghmore Peninsula.

Mountbatten was Prince Philip’s uncle, and he also served as King Charles’ godfather. Charles and Mountbatten were very close.

I guess he was headed out there in his boat.

That's not much of a beach.

But I'll bet this is a nice place if the sun ever shines.

We drove past the castle gatehouse.

And we kept seeing misty views of lakes and harbors.

And sheep.

This area is called Glencar. There is a waterfall nearby and we are going to walk up to it.

Glencar Waterfall in County Leitrim, Ireland, is a 15-metre (50-foot) high waterfall that famously inspired poet W. B. Yeats. It is prominently featured in his 1889 early lyrical poem, "The Stolen Child.”

This is a pretty amazing lady. Her name is Susan O’Keeffe, and she made her name as an investigative reporter. You can click on her name there to read her Wikipedia page. She exposed a meatpacking scandal and when all of a sudden and done, she was the only person to go to jail because she refused to reveal her sources.

These days she is the head of the William Butler Yeats Society and she has graciously agreed to meet the Road Scholars to give them some background on Yeats and read a little poetry to us in the shadow of Glencar Waterfall.

Glencar Waterfall in County Leitrim, Ireland, is a 15-metre (50-foot) high waterfall that famously inspired poet W. B. Yeats. It is prominently featured in his 1889 early lyrical poem, "The Stolen Child"

She even read “The Stolen Child” to us.

The Stolen Child (1889)

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand

The Road Scholars enjoyed the poetry reading.

Now we're learning all about Yeats himself; maybe not the best husband and father in the world, but he did have a way with words.

Let's go see the waterfall that Yeats loved so.

We took a hike in the wet woods to see the waters and the wild. There were no faeries.

But there was lots of water. There had been so much rain lately that the stream was really roaring that day.

They say it usually is just a lovely little waterfall.

But not today.

Want to see the water actually fall?

Nice.

Now there's a pastoral view for you.

In all the talk about Yeats we'd learned he left very specific instructions about how he wanted to be buried in the shadow of a large flat-topped limestone hill or mountain in County Sligo, Ireland. Well I was just sure I'd snapped a picture of it as we drove along, but apparently that's not the right hill.

He specified his final resting place in his poem "Under Ben Bulben," writing: "Under bare Ben Bulben's head / In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid." Today, his grave is located in the churchyard of St. Columba's Church in Drumcliff.

And apparently if the world isn't blanketed in fog, you can see Ben Bulben back there behind the trees to the left. But since we couldn't get even a glimpse of it today...

I downloaded a pretty picture of it from the internet. I still think it looks like that pic I took. Susan even said the picture I took was Ben Bulben. But I think she was mistaken.

Anyway, since she retired from investigative journalism, Yeats has become her passion and she loves to discuss him with interested tourists.

That's where the great man lies. His wife, George, is in there too.  That's right, George.

And that's his creepy epitaph.

Here is the excerpt Susan read from “Under Ben Bulben”

Under bare Ben Bulben's head
In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid,
An ancestor was rector there
Long years ago; a church stands near,
By the road an ancient Cross.
No marble, no conventional phrase,
On limestone quarried near the spot
By his command these words are cut:

Cast a cold eye
On life, on death.
Horseman, pass by!

I could probably convince you that's Ben Bulben if I tried, but Ben was over behind us to the left. Or so Susan said. I never did see him.

Let's go to town and find a place to have lunch.

This will work.

Seafood chowder and ham sandwich. Not bad. 

This is a sacred Marian site for Catholics. For us it was a bathroom stop. 

I think I momentarily saw a patch of blue sky. 

I have a nice room for the next three nights. Sure hope that sky clears up.

Maybe I will even see a rugby match when I look out my window.

billanderson601@yahoo.com