Peace Poem by Patrick Kavanagh
Peace
And sometimes I am sorry when the grass
Is growing over the stones in quiet hollows
And the cocksfoot leans across the rutted cart-pass
That I am not the voice of country fellows
Who now are standing by some headland talking
Of turnips and potatoes or young corn
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 furrow
There's an old plough upside-down on a weedy ridge
And someone is shouldering home a saddle-harrow.
Out of that childhood country what fools climb
To fight with tyrants Love and Life and Time?
It has lot of facts and great ideas. A good poem.
Out of that childhood country what fools climb To fight with tyrants Love and Life and Time? Thanks for these beautiful lines in such a nice poem.
Fear poem, excellently worded. Captured peace here on its own lovely way. A greatest pleasure reading this time and again. Peace be with the family of Patrick Kavanagh! Peace be with us all over the world. Thank you so much for creating this mesmerizing poem. May Patrick rest in Peace. God Bless in Abundance to the family of Patrick. Amen.
What an insult this electronic mish mash does to Patrick Kavanagh's emotive and treasured poem...shameful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/15/2024 7:11:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Combs and scarves.... thanks for posting.....