Having To Live in the Country (Patrick Kavanagh Poems)
Back once again in wild, wet MonaghanExiled from thought and feeling,A mean brutality reigns:It is really a horrible position to ...
Back once again in wild, wet MonaghanExiled from thought and feeling,A mean brutality reigns:It is really a horrible position to ...
On an apple-ripe September morningThrough the mist-chill fields I wentWith a pitch-fork on my shoulderLess for use than for devilment.The ...
On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knewThat her dark hair would weave a snare ...
April dusk It is tragic to be a poet now And not a lover Paradised under the mutest bough. I look through my window ...
There's a wind blowing Cold through the corridors, A ghost-wind, The flapping of defeated wings, A hell-fantasy From meadows damned To eternal April And listening, listening To the ...
They laughed at one I loved-The triangular hill that hungUnder the Big Forth. They saidThat I was bounded by the ...
The bicycles go by in twos and threes -There's a dance in Billy Brennan's barn to-night,And there's the half-talk code ...
We are the children of light, Wise, not companioned By goats In a condemned graveyard. Backward blowing Blizzards of memory Flatten out The genealogies. But here a point, The ...
We borrowed the loan of Kerr's assTo go to Dundalk with butter,Brought him home the evening before the marketAnd exile ...
Now leave the check-reins slack,The seed is flying far today -The seed like stars against the blackEternity of April clay.This ...
Beauty was that Far vanished flame, Call it a star Wanting better name. And gaze and gaze Vaguely until Nothing is left Save a grey ghost-hill. Here wait ...
The birds sang in the wet treesAnd I listened to them it was a hundred years from nowAnd I was ...
And sometimes I am sorry when the grass Is growing over the stones in quiet hollows And the cocksfoot leans ...
Leafy-with-love banks and the green waters of the canal Pouring redemption for me, that I do The will of God, ...
O stony grey soil of Monaghan The laugh from my love you thieved; You took the gay child of my ...
My black hills have never seen the sun rising, Eternally they look north towards Armagh. Lot's wife would not be ...
Upon a bank I sat, a child made seer Of one small primrose flowering in my mind. Better than wealth ...
Every old man I see Reminds me of my father When he had fallen in love with death One time ...
I do not think of you lying in the wet clay Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see You walking down ...
I have lived in important places, times When great events were decided, who owned That half a rood of rock, ...
We have tested and tasted too much, lover- Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder. But here ...
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