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[ In memory of Patrick Kavanagh ] Not for him the pious picture Of a country simple and content. His land was bleak: Narrow roads and barren houses In the fields of his bitter Monaghan. His Ireland was an unknown country: Not in the north and not in the south, Unseen by those outside. An incomer from the borderland Not at home in the city. Ever suspicious of artful speech, Distrustful of the easy word. He carried in him the sullenness of Those with whom he was a child. And carried in him a bond with Place and people which added His country to our Ireland. |
