I have lived in important places,… When great events were decided, wh… That half a rood of rock, a no-man… Surrounded by our pitchfork-armed… I heard the Duffys shouting “Damn…

April dusk It is tragic to be a poet now And not a lover Paradised under the mutest bough. I look through my window and see

There’s a wind blowing Cold through the corridors, A ghost-wind, The flapping of defeated wings, A hell-fantasy

O stony grey soil of Monaghan The laugh from my love you thieved… You took the gay child of my passi… And gave me your clod-conceived. You clogged the feet of my boyhood

The bicycles go by in twos and thr… There’s a dance in Billy Brennan’… And there’s the half-talk code of… And the wink-and-elbow language of… Half-past eight and there is not a…

We borrowed the loan of Kerr’s as… To go to Dundalk with butter, Brought him home the evening befor… And exile that night in Mucker. We heeled up the cart before the d…

On Raglan Road on an autumn day… That her dark hair would weave a s… I saw the danger, yet I walked al… And I said, let grief be a fallen… On Grafton Street in November we…

And sometimes I am sorry when the… Is growing over the stones in quie… And the cocksfoot leans across the… That I am not the voice of countr… Who now are standing by some headl…

Leafy-with-love banks and the gree… Pouring redemption for me, that I… The will of God, wallow in the ha… Grow with nature again as before… The bright stick trapped, the bree…

Upon a bank I sat, a child made s… Of one small primrose flowering in… Better than wealth it is, I said,… One small page of Truth’s manuscr… I looked at Christ transfigured w…

On an apple-ripe September mornin… Through the mist-chill fields I w… With a pitch-fork on my shoulder Less for use than for devilment. The threshing mill was set-up, I…

Beauty was that Far vanished flame, Call it a star Wanting better name. And gaze and gaze

Clay is the word and clay is the f… Where the potato-gatherers like me… Along the side-fall of the hill -… If we watch them an hour is there… Of life as it is broken-backed ove…

They laughed at one I loved– The triangular hill that hung Under the Big Forth. They said That I was bounded by the whiteth… Of the little farm and did not kno…

One side of the potato—pits was wh… How wonderful that was, how wonder… And when we put our ears to the pa… The music that came out was magica… The light between the ricks of hay…