Something happened to William Butler Yeats on his way to becoming a painter...in the footsteps of his father. He decided he liked writing poetry better. Certainly he was a favorite of most of the English teachers I’ve ever had, but I don’t remember any of them assigning his foxhunting poems for study! Yeats was born in Ireland, so the foxhunting came naturally.
“Now lay me in a cushioned chair
And carry me, you four,
With cushions here and cushions there,
To see the world once more.
