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
- Rule I By Eric Mottram Stop Writing Literature You Garrulous Indian
- For Roman Polanski by Nijole Miliauskaite
- Matrimony by Mike Yuan
- I was Looking a Long While. by Walt Whitman
- Orlando Furioso Canto 16 by Ludovico Ariosto
- Robert Burns: The Banks Of The Devon:
- Яков Полонский – Н. А. Грибоедова
- Robert Burns: Love For Love:
- The Death of Knowledge by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
- The Triumph Of Achilles by Paul Celan
- The Gods of the Copybook Headings by Rudyard Kipling
- Polly In A Porny by Shel Silverstein
- The (REAL) Tale of the Tortoise and the Hare by Ross D Tyler
- The Holy Grail poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Sleep and Death by William Wycherley
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).
