[{"node":{"title":"Boyd127","Collections":"Boyd Letters","Contributor":"Boyd Estate","Coverage":"19 Jan","Creator":"Linen Hall Library","Date":"Wednesday, March 16, 2016","Format":"TIFF","Identifier":"Boyd127","Item Description":"Letter","Keywords":"Drama, Yeats","Language":"English","Path":"https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/boyd127","Publisher":"Linen Hall Library","Relation":"Linen Hall Library","Rights":"Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA","Scanned image":{"src":"https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/sites/default/files/Boyd127_1.jpg","alt":""},"Source":"LHL Archive","Transcript":"\ufeff10\n(I hear the siren of an\nambulance, and again whatany continuity\nof thought I had is broken)\nYes, Yeats, We are all still\nin his shadow, poets particularlyespecially.\nAs for his drama, his best -\nI\u2019m thinking of Purgatory and\nThe Death of Cuchulain - are\nwonderful: and all of them have\ninterest. Still, BestIrish drama\nhasn\u2019t gone Yeats\u2019s\nway. Perhaps it will soonin the\nfuture, who can tell?\n\nI\u2019ve come almost\nto the end of this letter and\nhavetoldyou little about\nlife as we live it. \n","Type":"Text"}}]