Witness (Eavan Boland Poem)
Here is the city- its worn-down mountains, its grass and iron, its smoky coast seen from the high roads on ...
Eavan Boland Poems (9 Poems)
The Harbour (Eavan Boland Poem)
This harbour was made by art and force. And called Kingstown and afterwards Dun Laoghaire. And holds the sea behind ...
The Black Lace Fan My Mother Gave Me (Eavan Boland Poem)
It was the first gift he ever gave her, buying it for five five francs in the Galeries in pre-war ...
Outside History (Eavan Boland Poem)
These are outsiders, always. These stars- these iron inklings of an Irish January, whose light happened thousands of years before ...
Quarantine (Eavan Boland Poem)
In the worst hour of the worst season of the worst year of a whole people a man set out ...
That the Science of Cartography Is Limited (Eavan Boland Poem)
-and not simply by the fact that this shading of forest cannot show the fragrance of balsam, the gloom of ...
More Than Suspect (Eavan Boland Poem)
The oaks are stricken by a serious illness They dry up after having let go Into the glow of a ...
My Country in Darkness (Eavan Boland Poem)
After the wolves and before the elms the bardic order ended in Ireland. Only a few remained to continue a ...
Anorexic (Eavan Boland Poem)
Flesh is heretic. My body is a witch. I am burning it. Yes I am torching ber curves and paps ...