YEATS AND THE BIBLE

 Although the Nobel Prize winning Irish poet Yeats was raised in a Christian background, critics note that he turned for inspiration rather to tales of pagan Ireland “before Christianity destroyed it.” That may be true, but Yeats was often characterized as a Christian mystic, and his own Christian roots were always there. One evidence, I feel, is his deservedly famous poem shown below. It was based very loosely on one of the many exploits of the semi-divine character Aengus who figures in several ancient Irish and Scottish tales, but Yeats has knowingly or unconsciously infused it with biblical references as well.

To really appreciate the haunting beauty of Yeats' poem, I would suggest listening to it in the musical setting provided by the folk-singing duo Bud and Travis. It has been covered by a number of later artists, but it is hard to see how anyone could improve on Bud and Travis' original version, which can be heard on-line.

“The Song of Wandering Aengus” by William Butler Yeats

                I went out to the hazel wood,

                                Because a fire was in my head

                And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

                                And hooked a berry to a thread;

                And when white moths were on the wing,

                                And moth-like stars were flickering out,

                I dropped the berry in a stream

                                And caught a little silver trout.

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                When I had laid it on the floor

                                And went to blow the fire a-flame,

                But something rustled on the floor,

                                And someone called me by my name:

                It had become a glimmering girl

                                With apple blossom in her hair

                Who called me by my name and ran

                                And faded through the brightening air.

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                Though I am old with wandering

                                Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

                                           I will find out where she has gone,

                                And kiss her lips and take her hands;

                And walk among long dappled grass,

                                            And pluck till time and times are done,

                The silver apples of the moon,

                                            The golden apples of the sun.

An analysis of this poem should probably start with the way in which it is constructed. As an aid, I have indented those lines which contain an end rhyme, underlined those words and phrases which are exactly repeated within the same section, and placed in bold those cases in which a word is recurs in a different sections. So the poem is tied together in several complex ways:

It employs the sorts of rhyme patterns we are accustomed to in much of English poetry. But the repeated rhyme scheme of the first two sections becomes more complex in the final one, indicating a sort of consummation.

This rhyme pattern is supplemented by repetition of the same word not only within a given section, but also between sections. Thus, we have to wait until the final segment to come to repetitions of the “silver” of Part 1 and “apple” of Part 2. And in addition, the first and last sections contain three word pairs instead of only two as in the second section of the poem. This also indicates a sort of return to the idyllic setting of the opening section. So Yeats' has actually employed several of the types of repeated word patterns that we encounter in biblical poetry and prose (see my post on “repetitions and duplications”).

Despite these complicated literary devices, the poem manages to tell a coherent story in chronological order. Thus, the time frame moves forward between the three parts as indicated by the position of the sun: the breaking of dawn in Part 1(“ stars were flickering out”), early morning in Part 2 (“the brightening air”), and finally we arrive at full sun in the final line of the poem. This matches the past tenses in 1 and 2 moving on to the future tense in Part 3.

The first movement of the poem evokes the idyllic outdoor existence in the Garden of Eden of mankind. Adam and Eve are allowed to eat the fruit of any tree in the garden but one. Thus, we see Aengus plucking a berry. However, instead of eating it, he uses it as bait to catch a fish. This is a possible prohibition of God's command since no eating of animal flesh is mentioned in Genesis 1-2, only plant matter.

Thus, it is not surprising that in the second movement of the poem, Aengus suffers the loss of intimacy with all he loves. There is an interesting twist here in that it is the glimmering girl who calls Aengus by his name. This is the exact reverse of the Genesis story in which it is Adam who first names all the animals, indicating his mastery over them, and after the fall he gives Eve a name also (Genesis 3:20). In addition, Genesis 3:9 has God calling to Adam, just as the glimmering girl called Aengus by his name. This reversal of the biblical story indicates that it is the glimmering girl who is the dominant partner of the two. And since she is pictured as a fish, that could easily be an image of Christ himself, the holy ichthys.

Finally we come to the last major portion of the poem in which we learn that Aengus has been condemned to spend his whole life wandering, just as Cain was condemned to wander the earth after his sin and mankind was told to fill the earth after the Flood. Although his quest to recapture what he once had seems endless and fruitless (no pun intended), just as the bulk of the Bible teaches us, there is a final reward for those who persevere. So in the final lines, the hero expresses his confidence that he will once again be united with his absent love.

At this point there are several echoes of themes in the Book of Revelation. This time around, he will not only be allowed to pluck fruit from a natural tree, but will have access to the Tree of Life (Revelation 22:2); see his Beloved's face (Revelation 22:4a); have a brand new name to replace the old one by which he was once was known (Revelation 1:17; 22:4b); and even the sun itself will be replaced with God Himself (Revelation 22:5).

As to when this consummation will take place, the poem states, “till time and times are done.” Most literary critics feel this refers to Aengus' eventual death. However, the repetition of “time” in the plural has the effect of extending this reference not only to his own death, but the end of time itself. If so, then we have another allusion to Revelation, this time from 10:6, in which we read, at least in the KJV with which Yeats would have been most familiar, “there should be time no longer.”

Parenthetically, this is actually a misleading translation. For an explanation, see my post “Revelation 10:6: The End of Time?”

In addition, assuming I heard correctly, the Bud and Travis version makes one subtle change to the original poem. In place of “kiss her lips” near the end, they have substituted “know her lips.” It seems to me that this alteration not only scans a little better, but it also accomplishes two other things. For one, the word “know” has a much more intimate connotation, especially in light of the biblical reference in Genesis 4:1 to the man “knowing” Eve. In addition, Paul talks about the time to come when “I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.”