A Coole Drop of Water
...In Coole demesne,
and there to finish up
Spread to a lake and drop into a hole.
What's water but the generated soul?
Upon the border of that lake's a wood
Now all dry sticks under a wintry sun,
And in a copse of beeches there I stood,
For Nature's pulled her tragic buskin on
And all the rant's a mirror of my mood
from the poem 'Coole Park and Ballylee', by Wm Butler Yeats, 1931
Photographed December 2010 in Coole Park