by Admin · Published July 21, 2011 · Updated November 23, 2015
Poet W. B. Yeats did not approve of Constance’s politics. However, he seems to have been awed by her determination and fortitude:
ON A POLITICAL PRISONER
She that but little patience knew From childhood on, had now so much. A grey gull lost its fear and flew Done to her cell and there alit, And there endured her finger’s touch And from her fingers ate its bit. Did she in touching that lone wing Recall the years before her mindBecame a bitter, an abstract thing, Her thoughts some popular enmity; Blind and leader of the blind, Drinking the foul ditch where they lie? When long ago I saw her ride Under Ben Bulben to the meet, The beauty of her countryside With all youth’s lonely wildness stirred, She seemed to have grown clean and sweet Like any rock-bred, sea-born bird:Sea-born and balanced on the air, When first it sprang out of the nest Upon some lofty rock to stare Upon the cloudy canopy, While under its storm-beaten breast
Cries out the hollows of the sea.
Tags: Constance MarkieviczON A POLITICAL PRISONERPoem By W.B. YeatsThe Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats