When Passing By Yeats’s Grave (on the Ides of March)

m. f. nagel


Cast a  cold eye on life

On death,

Horseman pass by.

Yeats’ epitaph.


When passing by Yeats’s grave

On the ides of March

Where the seven ancient forests join.


I saw

The first patch of brown



From its winterself.


When passing by

Yeats’s grave

I saw

The four horsemen of the apocalypse.


A monument


Grey leaf and stick

With which

The summer birds Will build their nests.


When passing by Yeats’s grave

 on the ides of March



m.f. nagel was born in anchorage Alaska, her love of poetry is a gift shared, from her Athabaskan and Eyak heritage. m.f. now lives and writes near the banks of the Matanuska river in the Palmer Butte, Alaska, where the moose, wild dog~roses and salmonberries provide unending joy and inspiration.