Poems of Patrick Kavanagh
|4.||Canal Bank Walk||1/13/2003|
|7.||Having To Live in the Country||1/3/2003|
|8.||In Memory Of My Mother||1/3/2003|
|9.||Inniskeen Road: July Evening||1/3/2003|
|13.||Memory of my Father||1/3/2003|
|14.||On An Apple-Ripe September Morning||1/3/2003|
|15.||On Raglan Road||1/3/2003|
|19.||Stony Grey Soil||1/3/2003|
|20.||The Great Hunger||4/5/2010|
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