Cemetery where Yeats and wife, George, were probably buried. Someone smarter than me suggested he was in France. There is a story about why. I won't tell it here.
The lovely people here are reading Yeats' poetry, in front of his grave. It was a lovely, reverent, closure to our visit.
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It is wet here, which after days of cheerful sunshine, makes me happy. It probably rained while I was sleeping this morning. My big plan for today was to eat everything I packed in the refrigerator. T