A poem

Since people are actually inclined to come to this spot every now and again, I thought I should put out another post to bait you into coming back, or maybe let cyberspace know that I'm not dead.
I've been reading/writing a lot of poetry this past year, and I think it is time to share some of my findings with the world. Often poetry is regarded as uninteresting, esoteric, confusing, or some variation on that theme, but I am inclined to side with Leonard Cohen who said; "Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash". So I would like to share some of the ashes that I have been scavenging lately.
Here is a poem that enticed me to loving poetry. I couldn't get the last line out of my head for days...

"The Lake Isle of Innisfree"

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

William Butler Yeats (1893)

While I could ramble on about the imagery in this poem and so on, I won't. Poems rely highly on subjectivity, so use your own!