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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=537203" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dedication To A Book Of Stories Selected From The Irish Novelists</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=537203" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There was a green branch hung with many a bell<br>When her own people ruled this tragic Eire;<br>And from its murmuring greenness, calm of Faery,<br>A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=537203" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It charmed away the merchant from his guile,<br>And turned the farmer's memory from his cattle,<br>And hushed in sleep the roaring ranks of battle:<br>And all grew friendly for a little while.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=537203" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ah, Exiles wandering over lands and seas,<br>And planning, plotting always that some morrow<br>May set a stone upon ancestral Sorrow!<br>I also bear a bell-branch full of ease.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=537203" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I tore it from green boughs winds tore and tossed<br>Until the sap of summer had grown weary!<br>I tore it from the barren boughs of Eire,<br>That country where a man can be so crossed;</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=537203" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Can be so battered, badgered and destroyed<br>That he's a loveless man: gay bells bring laughter<br>That shakes a mouldering cobweb from the rafter;<br>And yet the saddest chimes are best enjoyed.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=537203" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Gay bells or sad, they bring you memories<br>Of half-forgotten innocent old places:<br>We and our bitterness have left no traces<br>On Munster grass and Connemara skies.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Butler+Yeats">William Butler Yeats</a></strong></div>

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