The Stolen Child

W. B. Yeats, 1865 - 1939

. Like much of his early work, it is based on the myths and legends he heard from local
people while growing up in County Sligo. There were many stories about fairies snatching
children away and although no one took such tales too seriously, they could still create fear
and unease in the subconscious of rural people well into the 20th century The poem is
called The Stolen Child but the fairies charm the boy into coming with them rather than
actually steal him.
They begin by offering food with vats full of berries and of reddest stolen cherries. This
may seem commonplace today but rich fruits would have been a luxury in 19th century
Ireland. The fact that the cherries are stolen also conjures up the idea of forbidden fruit
which adds to the sense of temptation. The fairies also beguile him with stories of dancing
and merriment, and of mischief such as playing tricks on slumbering trout (Fish). Although
the boy goes voluntarily, he is still stolen in the sense that he has been bewitched by the
fairies chanting. The boy is unhurt but the reader is still left with a sense of unease, loss
and foreboding.
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 weve hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the worlds more full of weeping
than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray 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 anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the worlds 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 the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the worlds more full of weeping
than you can understand.
Away with us hes going,
The solemn-eyed:
Hell 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,
For the worlds more full of weeping
than he can understand