Har-UMPH! Eighty-four views so far, and no one thinks that Yeats might be a tad vague and need decoding, or is just too perfect (or too awful) to study. Where’s the puzzler in the back of the class with an acute observation? Everybody knows about the legend that Pythagoras had a golden thigh? That maybe this is a bounce off a remark in another poem about (I think, correct me if I’m wrong—no books here where I am right now, and the internet is cheating) Synge and the drama “The Playboy of the Western World”?
Yeats can be stupendous. But where are the sharp-tongued sharks? I personally think this poem could be clarified, revised, or cut. Especially LL 1–4 of the last stanza. If he is writing about giving birth, I wonder how real his perspective is; if not, he must be writing about writing and not stevedoring. Come on, piranhas! I have reservations, am I blowing steam?