1 min read
Слушать

Peace

And sometimes I am sorry when the

Is growing over the stones in quiet

And the cocksfoot leans across the rutted

That I am not the voice of country

Who now are standing by some headland

Of turnips and potatoes or young

Of turf banks stripped for victory.

Here Peace is still hawking His coloured combs and scarves and beads of horn.

Upon a headland by a whinny hedge A hare sits looking down a leaf-lapped

There's an old plough upside-down on a weedy

And someone is shouldering home a saddle-harrow.

Out of that childhood country what fools

To fight with tyrants Love and Life and Time?

0
0
37
Give Award

Patrick Kavanagh

Patrick Kavanagh (21 October 1904 – 30 November 1967) was an Irish poet and novelist. His best-known works include the novel Tarry Flynn, and th…

Other author posts

Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments

Reading today

Я только малость объясню в стихе
Ryfma
Ryfma is a social app for writers and readers. Publish books, stories, fanfics, poems and get paid for your work. The friendly and free way for fans to support your work for the price of a coffee
© 2024 Ryfma. All rights reserved 12+