Marty Barrett: The Flight of the Mavervorl: Yeats to glade: "I changed my goddamn mind."

Partially because of the faerie problem, and partially because I have been coveting Martha's Vineyard real estate (it's the type of coveting free of the ability to procure it), I have been thinking about a particular phrase of William Butler Yeats in his description of his intended digs on Innisfree.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

Through the guy living in my office building's garage, I was able to contact W.B. Yeats and ask a few questions.

MB: How would you describe the noise in your glade, Mr. Yeats?
WBY: Oh, it's bee-loud.

MB: Does that mean the noise in your glade is made by bees, and that they are loud?
WBY: Yes.

MB: Does it ever bother you, the bee-loudness?
WBY: Aye.

MB: What, you're a pirate now?

Because the directory was already open to that page, psychically, I then contacted W.B. Mason for some mailing labels.

In terms of glades, their usability decreases in inverse proportion to the number of bees in them. If I were to own property with a glade, I would put a barbecue and hammock in it. And if my enemies came over, I would suggest they try out the hammock, and then put the barbecue under it, thus burning my enemies to death, as the guy in my garage suggested.

Were I to have a glade, there are only a few types of sound I would allow, lest my property value decrease: