Feasts Of Hunger
My hunger,
Anne,
Anne, flee on your donkey
If I have any taste, it s for hardly anything but earth and stones
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My hunger,
Anne,
Anne, flee on your donkey
If I have any taste, it s for hardly anything but earth and stones
Clay is the word and clay is the
Where the potato-gatherers like mechanised scarecrows
Along the side-fall of the hill - Maguire and his men
If we watch them an hour is there anything we can
I come among the peoples like a shadow
I sit down by each man's side
None sees me, but they look on one another,
And know that I am there