In a Bee-Loud Glade

The problem with living in the city, amongst all of the hectic busy-ness of contemporary life, is that we do not live in a bee-loud glade.

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 morning 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.

Hear here:  Yeats' own recording of his poem.

Take a minute, take an hour:  Hear the song in your deep heart's 
core and you'll understand that there is no reason for a in-depth 
reading of Yeats' poem