I still remember the first time I heard W.B Yeats’ voice. I was about 14 or 15 years old sitting with other young aspiring scholars in Tom O’Flaherty’s English class in Rochestown, Cork. We were studying ‘Sailing to Byzantium’ at the time.
‘That is no country for old men, the young in one another’s arms’. I’d utter these lines to myself walking home, like I was Ian McKellen.
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