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…

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

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

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…

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…

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

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…

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…

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…

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…

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…

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

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…

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…