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
- Song—A Lass wi’ a Tocher by Robert Burns
- The Virgin Maid of Orleans, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet: La Pucelle by T. Wignesan.
- Selfish World, Selfish People by Shahbaz Khan
- Conversation
- Nor We Of Her To Him by Stevie Smith
- Dark Room( qua vadis) by Muralidharan Mudaliar
- The Rabbit Catcher by Sylvia Plath
- Lover’s Gifts XVIII: Your Days by Rabindranath Tagore
- Faun by Sylvia Plath
- Medallion poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Sun and Fun poem – John Betjeman poems
- To Spirituality by Nithin Purple
- In The Valley Of The Elwy poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
- Upon The Hills Of Georgia poem – Alexander Pushkin
- The Poet’s Grave by Nijole Miliauskaite
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).
