Walk Yeats Country

A Journey Through the Life and Landscape of W.B. Yeats

Welcome to Yeats Country—a poetic landscape woven into the soul of Ireland’s northwest, where stone and stream still whisper the verses of William Butler Yeats. This curated map takes you on a journey through the places that shaped, stirred, and inspired one of Ireland’s greatest literary voices. From sacred graveside to cascading waterfall, each stop is a doorway into the poet’s world.

Drumcliffe Church

“Cast a cold eye / On life, on death / Horseman, pass by.”

Begin where Yeats’ story ends: Drumcliffe Church, nestled at the foot of Benbulben. It’s here, in this peaceful churchyard, that Yeats chose to be buried. The simplicity of his grave belies the immensity of his legacy. The view—mountains behind, sky above—feels more like a closing stanza than a cemetery. Many come to pay their respects; all leave with a quiet hush in their chest.

The final resting place of William Butler Yeats.

Lissadell House

“The light of evening, Lissadell…”

Open during the summer months (June through August), Lissadell is a stately Neo-Classical home that once welcomed the young poet as a guest. It was here that Yeats formed a bond with the Gore-Booth sisters—Eva and Constance. The latter, Constance Markievicz, would go on to become one of Ireland’s most iconic revolutionaries. The house itself remains a time capsule of elegance and history, still echoing with the laughter and longing of those early days.

Open in June, July and August only. This is a stunning Neo Classical property which was the holiday retreat of Yeats. it is also the family home of Constance Markiewicz (nee Gore-Booth), who is one of the most important women in Irish history. Yeats poem ‘In memory of Eva Gore-Booth and Con’ has the following opening lines.

‘The light of evening, Lissadell
Great windows open to the South
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle’

Glencar Waterfall

“Where the wandering water gushes / From the hills above Glen-Car…”

Not far from Sligo town lies Glencar Waterfall, a place that feels borrowed from myth. The short walk to the falls is laced with greenery and birdsong, a prelude to the cascade itself—sudden, shimmering, alive. Yeats immortalized it in The Stolen Child, capturing a sense of ancient enchantment that still lingers in the mist. If ever a place invited you to believe in faeries, this is it.

A beautiful waterfall reached through a short scenic walk to the various viewing platforms.
the water features in the poem ‘The Stolen Child’, and draws the reader into a world of Irish mythology with particular reference to the faerie folk.

Hyde Bridge & Yeats Statue

In the heart of Sligo town, where Stephen Street meets the Garavogue River, a thoughtful bronze Yeats leans against his cane, eyes forever fixed on memory. The Hyde Bridge statue may seem modest, but its placement is poignant—surrounded by the town that nurtured him, near the river that runs like a sentence beneath his feet. It’s a place for reflection, a quiet reminder that poetry, like water, finds its way through everything.

A rather interesting statue to Yeats, situated on Stephen Street, near the Ulster Bank building. 

Why These Places Matter

To follow this map is not just to explore Sligo—it’s to trace the emotional geography of a poet’s life. These are not random landmarks; they are living metaphors. Lissadell is youth, Drumcliffe is mortality, Glencar is myth, and Sligo town is memory. Together, they form a constellation of belonging—a world Yeats returned to again and again in his work.

How to Use This Map

Take your time. Whether you walk it in a day or stretch it across a thoughtful week, each site deserves more than a glance. Bring a book of Yeats’ poems, or just a willing spirit. You don’t need to know every line—this landscape speaks its own poetry, if you’re listening.

Final Thoughts

Yeats once wrote, “I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” As you move through Yeats Country, you’re walking the line between history and imagination. Let it move you. Let it linger. And let it remind you that poetry is not a relic—but a place.