On an apple-ripe September mornin… Through the mist-chill fields I w… With a pitch-fork on my shoulder Less for use than for devilment. The threshing mill was set-up, I…

On Raglan Road on an autumn day… That her dark hair would weave a s… I saw the danger, yet I walked al… And I said, let grief be a fallen… On Grafton Street in November we…

My black hills have never seen the… Eternally they look north towards… Lot’s wife would not be salt if sh… Incurious as my black hills that a… When dawn whitens Glassdrummond c…

Every old man I see Reminds me of my father When he had fallen in love with de… One time when sheaves were gathere… That man I saw in Gardner Street

Upon a bank I sat, a child made s… Of one small primrose flowering in… Better than wealth it is, I said,… One small page of Truth’s manuscr… I looked at Christ transfigured w…

Now leave the check-reins slack, The seed is flying far today - The seed like stars against the bl… Eternity of April clay. This seed is potent as the seed

Beauty was that Far vanished flame, Call it a star Wanting better name. And gaze and gaze

They laughed at one I loved– The triangular hill that hung Under the Big Forth. They said That I was bounded by the whiteth… Of the little farm and did not kno…

Leafy-with-love banks and the gree… Pouring redemption for me, that I… The will of God, wallow in the ha… Grow with nature again as before… The bright stick trapped, the bree…

Back once again in wild, wet Mona… Exiled from thought and feeling, A mean brutality reigns: It is really a horrible position t… And I equate myself with Dante

My father played the melodeon Outside at our gate, There were stars in the morning ea… And they danced to his music. Across the world bogs his melodeon…

April dusk It is tragic to be a poet now And not a lover Paradised under the mutest bough. I look through my window and see

I do not think of you lying in the… Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see You walking down a lane among the… On your way to the station, or hap… Going to second Mass on a summer…

There’s a wind blowing Cold through the corridors, A ghost-wind, The flapping of defeated wings, A hell-fantasy

I have lived in important places,… When great events were decided, wh… That half a rood of rock, a no-man… Surrounded by our pitchfork-armed… I heard the Duffys shouting “Damn…