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Lough Gill, County Sligo.








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Slish Wood is located about three miles from Sligo Town, just past Dooney Rock on the R287 to Dromahair, in County Leitrim.

Click for Lough Gill Map

There is a car park, picnic site and about six miles of lakeside walks available at Slish Wood. A small stream runs alongside the car park and flows into Lough Gill. One of the longer walks, around Killery Mountain, offers splendid views of Lough Gill and ends near the 'Lake Isle of Innisfree' at Killery, County Sligo.

Yeats refers to Slish Wood as Sleuth Wood
' WHERE dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake '
The woods are on a headland that slopes down into Lough Gill.





The Stolen Child

WHERE dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water-rats; There we've hid our faery vats, Full of berries And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim grey sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances, Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And is anxious in its sleep. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wandering water gushes From the hills above Glen-Car,. In pools among the rushes That scarce could bathe a star, We seek for slumbering trout And whispering in their ears Give them unquiet dreams; Leaning softly out From ferns that drop their tears Over the young streams. Come away, O human child! To to waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Away with us he's going, The solemn-eyed: He'll hear no more the lowing Of the calves on the warm hillside Or the kettle on the hob Sing peace into his breast, Or see the brown mice bob Round and round the oatmeal-chest. For he comes, the human child, To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.

W.B.Yeats.                         






Copyright © 2006 Áine

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