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
- Xai Kou1
- Robert Burns: To Miss Ferrier: Enclosing the Elegy on Sir J. H. Blair.
- The Cinnamon Peeler by Michael Ondaatje
- Oh fair enough are sky and plain poem – A. E. Housman
- Mama, Come Back by Nellie Wong
- Sea Dreams poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Beach Glass poem – Amy Clampitt poems | Poems and Poetry
- Олег Сердобольский – Воробышек и крошки
- A Song : The Sparkling Eye by William Cowper
- I just love you by Raj Arumugam
- The Fair Singer poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- An Invocation poem – Alexander Pushkin
- To a Discarded Toast by William Somervile
- The Brave and the Love Flute by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
- Approach Of Winter by William Carlos Williams
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).
