They laughed at one I loved-
The triangular hill that hung
Under the Big Forth. They said
That I was bounded by the whitethorn hedges
Of the little farm and did not know the world.
But I knew that love’s doorway to life
Is the same doorway everywhere.
Ashamed of what I loved
I flung her from me and called her a ditch
Although she was smiling at me with violets.
But now I am back in her briary arms
The dew of an Indian Summer lies
On bleached potato-stalks
What age am I?
I do not know what age I am,
I am no mortal age;
I know nothing of women,
Nothing of cities,
I cannot die
Unless I walk outside these whitethorn hedges.
More Poetry from Patrick Kavanagh:Patrick Kavanagh Poems based on Topics: World, Woman, Life, Age, Cities
- Having To Live in the Country (Patrick Kavanagh Poems)
- On An Apple-Ripe September Morning (Patrick Kavanagh Poems)
- On Raglan Road (Patrick Kavanagh Poems)
- April Dusk (Patrick Kavanagh Poems)
- March (Patrick Kavanagh Poems)
- Inniskeen Road: July Evening (Patrick Kavanagh Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:Based on Topics: Life Poems, World Poems, Woman Poems, Age Poems, Cities Poems
Based on Keywords: triangular, whitethorn, briary, potato-stalks