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
- Sorrow’s Importunity poem – Alfred Austin
- The Man Born to Farming by Wendell Berry
- Wake Oslo up again by Philo Ikonya
- Юрий Коринец – Март
- Robert Burns: On Tam The Chapman:
- The Beginning by Rabindranath Tagore
- Ок Мельникова – Sha man
- Владимир Орлов – Летит корабль
- When Smoke Stood Up From Ludlow poem – A. E. Housman
- Михаил Кузмин – Зимнее солнце
- Dionysus poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster
- At Night poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Владимир Британишский – Быт
- Two Songs Of A Fool by William Butler Yeats
- lines_and_squares.html
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).
