The bicycles go by in twos and thr… There’s a dance in Billy Brennan’… And there’s the half-talk code of… And the wink-and-elbow language of… Half-past eight and there is not a…

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…

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

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…

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

Clay is the word and clay is the f… Where the potato-gatherers like me… Along the side-fall of the hill -… If we watch them an hour is there… Of life as it is broken-backed ove…

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…

One side of the potato—pits was wh… How wonderful that was, how wonder… And when we put our ears to the pa… The music that came out was magica… The light between the ricks of hay…

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

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

We borrowed the loan of Kerr’s as… To go to Dundalk with butter, Brought him home the evening befor… And exile that night in Mucker. We heeled up the cart before the d…

We have tested and tasted too much… Through a chink too wide there com… But here in the Advent-darkened r… Where the dry black bread and the… Of penance will charm back the lux…

O stony grey soil of Monaghan The laugh from my love you thieved… You took the gay child of my passi… And gave me your clod-conceived. You clogged the feet of my boyhood

And sometimes I am sorry when the… Is growing over the stones in quie… And the cocksfoot leans across the… That I am not the voice of countr… Who now are standing by some headl…