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
- Teasing by Pamela Griffiths
- An Antheme by William Strode
- Design by Robert Frost
- Николай Языков – А. Н. Вульфу (Нe называй меня поэтом)
- The Boa Constrictor Song by Shel Silverstein
- Woods by Wendell Berry
- It Nods and Curtseys and Recovers poem – A. E. Housman
- Concealment
- A June-Tide Echo poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- Orlando Furioso Canto 22 by Ludovico Ariosto
- Passing by Shaunna Harper
- Robert Burns: I Hae a Wife O’ My Ain:
- The Deserted Village by Oliver Goldsmith
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. In June. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- My Aroma
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).
