Shancoduff
by Patrick Kavanagh
My black hills have never seen the sun rising,
Eternally they look north towards Armagh.
Lot’s wife would not be salt if she had been
Incurious as my black hills that are happy
When dawn whitens Glassdrummond chapel.
My hills hoard the bright shillings of March
While the sun searches in every pocket.
They are my Alps and I have climbed the Matterhorn
With a sheaf of hay for three perishing calves
In the field under the Big Forth of Rocksavage.
The sleety winds fondle the rushy beards of Shancoduff
While the cattle-drovers sheltering in the Featherna Bush
Look up and say: ‘Who owns them hungry hills
That the water-hen and snipe must have forsaken?
A poet? Then by heavens he must be poor.’
I hear and is my heart not badly shaken?
End of the poem
15 random poems
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- A Bard’s Epitaph by Robert Burns
- Альфред де Мюссе – Прости
- A Shropshire Lad poem – John Betjeman poems | Poems and Poetry
- Такахама Кёси – Кончик трости моей
- The Boston Evening Transcript by T. S. Eliot
- Riposte to the Bard: Sonnet 130 remade in my lady’s image by Neil Outar
- Inscription For A Stone Erected At The Sowing Of A Grove Of Oaks At Chillington, Anno 1790 by William Cowper
- the-infernal-regions.html
- The Passing Of Spring poem – Alfred Austin
- All in June by William Henry Davies
- different lovers by Raj Arumugam
- The Iliad: Book VI (excerpt) poem – Alexander Pope
- Wind in the Beechwood by Siegfried Sassoon
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
