Seamus Heaney Poems
|1.||A Kite For Aibhín||12/28/2011|
|2.||Act Of Union||11/11/2010|
|4.||Anything Can Happen||2/19/2015|
|9.||Death Of A Naturalist||12/28/2011|
|15.||From The Frontier Of Writing||12/28/2011|
|18.||Lovers On Aran||12/28/2011|
|20.||Mossbawn: Two Poems In Dedication||12/28/2011|
|24.||Requiem For The Croppies||12/28/2011|
|25.||Rite Of Spring||12/28/2011|
|28.||Tankas For Toraiwa||1/10/2012|
|30.||The Early Purges||12/28/2011|
|31.||The Grauballe Man||12/28/2011|
|32.||The Harvest Bow||11/11/2010|
|35.||The Tollund Man||11/11/2010|
|37.||Villanelle For An Anniversary||2/9/2015|
I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.
In the porch I met my father crying--
He had always taken funerals in his stride--
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.
The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand
And tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble,'
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand
In hers and coughed out angry ...
There, in the corner, staring at his drink.
The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam,
Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead jaw.
Speech is clamped in the lips' vice.
That fist would dropp a hammer on a Catholic-
Oh yes, that kind of thing could start again;
The only Roman collar he tolerates
Smiles all round his sleek pint of porter.