[Patrick Crotty - Modern Irish Poetry - An Anthology

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Patrick Crotty was born in Fcrmoy, County Cork, in 1952 and educated at
University College Cork and the University of Stirling. He is a senior lecturer
in English and Welsh Studies at Trinity College, Carmarthen. He frequently
contributes articles and reviews on Irish and Scottish literature to a wide range
of newspapers and journals, including the Times Literary Supplement, the Irish
Times and the Irish Review. He is currently completing a study of Hugh
Mac Diarmid.
MODERN
IRISH
POETRY
An
Anthology
•
Edited by
PATRICK CROTTY

C-fy

I I II

Ml A( KS I'API

Ill I I A M
 In memory of

Tudor Bevan

1933-1994

First p u b l i s h e d in 1995 by
T h e Blackstaff Press L i m i t e d
3 G a l w a y Park, D u n d o n a l d , Belfast B T 1 6 O A N , N o r t h e r n Ireland
w i t h t h e assistance o f
T h e Arts C o u n c i l o f N o r t h e r n Ireland

© S e l e c t i o n , I n t r o d u c t i o n a n d N o t e s , Patrick C r o t t y , 1995
All rights r e s e r v e d
T h e acknowledgements on pp. 4 2 3 - 8 constitute an extension
o f this c o p y r i g h t page

Typeset by Paragon Typesetters, Quecnsferry, C l w y d

P r i n t e d in Ireland by
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A O P c a t a l o g u e r e c o r d lor t h i s b o o k
is available from t h e llntisli I ibrary

ISUN <>-HSM<> S(.l .*

 C O N T E N T S

INTRODUCTION 1

THOMAS M A C G R E E V Y (1893-1967) 9
H o m a g e to H i e r o n y n i u s Bosch 9
Recessional 11

AUSTIN CLARKE (1896-1974) 13

T h e Lost Heifer 13
from T h e Y o u n g W o m a n of Beare 14
T h e Planter's D a u g h t e r 16
Celibacy 17
Martha Blake 18
T h e Straying Student 20
Penal Law 21
St Christopher 21
Early Unfinished Sketch 21
Martha Blake at Fifty-one 22
/rwwTiresias, II 27

PATRICK KAVANAGH (1904-1967) 31

To the M a n After the H a r r o w 31
Stony Grey Soil 32
from T h e Great H u n g e r : I, from III, XIV 33
T h e Twelfth of July 39
Tarry Flynn 39
A Christmas C h i l d h o o d 40
Father Mat 42
Elegy for J i m Larkin 46
Epic 47
Innocence 48
Kerr's Ass 48
T h e Hospital 49

PADRAIC FALLON (1905-1974) 50

A Flask of Brandy 50
Kiltartan Legend 51
Yeats at Athenry Perhaps 52
liom Three Houses: I G u r t e e n 55
A Mil of Brass 57

BRIAN ( ()1 I I Y (1905 1995) 59

from I >eath of I Icktor: 6 59
Itoin I in W l u t foi W h o m U n w a n t e d : I, 8 60
SAMUEL BECKETT (1906-1989) 62
Cascando 62
my way is in the sand flowing 63
what w o u l d I do w i t h o u t this w o r l d faceless incurious 64
from W o r d s and Music 64
Roundelay 65

J O l IN IIEWITT (1907-1987) 66
from Freehold: from II T h e Lonely Heart 66
T h e Ram's H o r n 68
* The Colony 69
Substance and Shadow 73
An Irishman in C o v e n t r y 73
A Local Poet 74

L O U I S MACNEICE (1907-1963) 76
Mayfly 77
Snow 78
from A u t u m n Journal: XVI 78
M e e t i n g Point 82
Autobiography 83
T h e Libertine 84
W e s t e r n Landscape 85
from A u t u m n Sequel: from C a n t o XX 88
from A H a n d of Snapshots: T h e O n c e - i n - P a s s i n g 91
H o u s e on a Cliff 92
Soap Suds 92
T h e Suicide 93
Star-gazer 94

DENIS DEVLIN (1908-1959) 95

A n k ' h o r Vat 95
Little Elegy 96
from M e m o i r s of a T u r c o m a n D i p l o m a t : Oteli Asia Palas, Inc. 98
R e n e w a l by her E l e m e n t 99

W.R. RODGERS (1909-1969) 101

Snow 101
Lent 103
The Net 104
Stormy Night 105

MÁIRTÍN Ó DIREÁIN (1910-1988) 107

D e i r e a d h Ré 108
trans. Era's E n d by Patrick C r o t t y 109
C u i m h n e an Domhnaigh 108
trans. M e m o r y of Sunday by Patrick Crotty 109
 Cranna Foirtil 110
trans. Strong Beams by Patrick C r o t t y 111

SEÁN Ó RÍORDÁIN (1917-1977) 113

Adhlacadh Mo M h á t h a r 114
trans. My M o t h e r ' s Burial by Patrick C r o t t y 115
Malairt 116
trans. Switch by Patrick C r o t t y 117
C n o c Mellerí 118
trans. M o u n t Melleray by Patrick C r o t t y 119
Siollabadh 124
trans. Syllabling by Patrick C r o t t y 125
Claustrophobia 124
trans. Claustrophobia by Patrick C r o t t y 125
Reo 126
trans. Frozen Stiff by Patrick C r o t t y 127
Fiabhras 126
trans. Fever by Patrick C r o t t y 127

VALENTIN IREMONGER (1918-1991) 130

This H o u r e H e r Vigill 130
Clear V i e w in S u m m e r 131
Icarus 132

FERGUS ALLEN (b. 1921) 134

Elegy for Faustina 134
T h e Fall 135

MÁIRE MHAC AN T S A O I (b. 1922) 137

Caoineadh 138
trans. Lament by Patrick C r o t t y 139
C e a t h r ú i n t í M h á i r c Ní Ógáin 138
trans. Mary H o g a n ' s Quatrains by Patrick C r o t t y 139

PEARSE H U T C H I N S O N (b. 1927) 146

Malaga 146
Gaeltacht 147
Sometimes Feel 148

RI< :i IAR1) M U R P H Y (h. 1927) 149

Sailing to an Island 150
T h e Poet on the Island 152
from T h e liattlc of Aughrim: Casement's Funeral 153
Seals at I ligh Island 154
Stoinipetrel 155
M o r n i n g Call 156
from T h e Price ol S t o n e : Roof-tree, C o n v e n i e n c e ,
Kylcmorc ( astir, Nairn.il S o n I 5i>
T H O M A S KINSELLA (b. 1928) 159
Chrysalides 160
from N o t e s from the Land of the Dead: H e n W o m a n ,
Ancestor, T e a r H>(>
from O n e : 38 P h o e n i x Street, His Father's H a n d s 167
from Anniversaries: 1956 172
* from T h e Messenger 173
from O u t of Ireland: H a r m o n i e s 174
from O n e Fond Embrace 174

J O H N M O N T A G U E (b. 1929) 178

' Like D o l m e n s R o u n d My C h i l d h o o d , the O l d People 179
The Trout 180
A D r i n k of Milk 181
from A C h o s e n Light: I 11 rue Daguerre 182
Family C o n f e r e n c e 183
T h e Same Gesture ' 183
Last J o u r n e y 184
Small Secrets 185
Dowager 187
from T h e Cave of N i g h t : III Cave 188
H e r b e r t Street Revisited 188

JAMES SIMMONS (b. 1933) 191

O n e of the Boys 191
W e s t Strand Visions 192
F r o m the Irish 193

BRENDAN KENNELLY (b. 1936) 194

from C r o m w e l l : T h r e e Tides, Vintage 194

SEAMUS HEANEY (b. 1939) 197

C h u r n i n g Day 198
Broagh 199
T h e Tollund Man 199
from Mossbawn: T w o P o e m s in Dedication: I Sunlight 201
Funeral Rites 202
Casualty 205
Badgers 208
T h e Harvest B o w 209
T h e Birthplace 210
from S w e e n e y Redivivus: T h e Cleric 211
F r o m the Frontier of W r i t i n g 212
From the C a n t o n of Expectation 213
W h e e l s within W h e e l s 215
from Lightenings: v i n , ix 216
Keeping G o i n g 217
MICHAEL LONGLEY (b. 1939) 220
In M e m o r i a m 220
Caravan 222
Wounds 223
Ghost T o w n 224
M a n Lying on a Wall 225
Wreaths: T h e Civil Servant, T h e Greengrocer,
T h e Linen W o r k e r s 225
from M a y o M o n o l o g u e s : Self-heal 227
T h e Linen Industry 227
Between Hovers 228
H o m e r i c P o e m s : Laertes, Argos, T h e Butchers,
Phemios & M e d o n 229
River & Fountain 231

MICHAEL H A R T N E T T (b. 1941) 235

Bread 236
I have exhausted the delighted range . . . 236
For My G r a n d m o t h e r , Bridget Halpin 237
from A Farewell to English: I 237
Lament for T a d g h C r o n i n ' s C h i l d r e n 238
T h e M a n w h o W r o t e Yeats, the M a n w h o W r o t e Mozart 239
Sneachta Gealai '77 246
trans. M o o n s n o w '77 by Michael H a r t n e t t 247

EAMON G R E N N A N (b. 1941) 248

Totem 248
Four D e e r 249
Breaking Points 250

DEREK M A H O N (b. 1941) 253

A D y i n g Art 253
Ecclesiastes 254
An Image from Beckett 254
Lives 256
T h e S n o w Party 258
1
A Refusal to M o u r n 259
\ A Disused Shed in C o . W e x f o r d 261
('.ourtyards in Delft 263
Rathlin 264
I ractatus 265

L I L I A N NÍ CHUILLEANÁIN (b. 1942) 266

The Second Voyage 266
I >eaths ami Engines 267
The I n l n i m . m t 268
T h e Real T h i n g 269
Saint Margarcl ol (lortona 270
 EAVAN BOLAND (b. 1944) 272
Listen. This Is the Noise of M y t h 272
Fond Memory 275
T h e Black Lace Fan My M o t h e r Gave Me 276
T h e Latin Lesson 277
M i d n i g h t Flowers 278
Anna Liffey 279

PAUL D U R C A N (b. 1944) 286

T h e H a t Factory 286
T u l l y n o e : T e t e - a - T c t e in the Parish Priest's Parlour 289
T h e Haulier's Wife Meets Jesus on the Road N e a r M o o n e 290
A r o u n d the C o r n e r from Francis Bacon 295
from Six N u n s Die in C o n v e n t Inferno: I 297
T h e Late Mr Charles Lynch Digresses 301
T h e Levite and His C o n c u b i n e at Gibeah 301

BERNARD O ' D O N O G H U E (b. 1945) 304

A N u n Takes the Veil 304
T h e Weakness 305

FRANK ORMSBY (b. 1947) 306

Passing the C r e m a t o r i u m 306
Home 306
from A Paris H o n e y m o o n : L'Orangerie 307

CI ARAN CARSON (b. 1948) 308

Dresden 308
Cocktails 313
The Mouth 313
Hamlet 314
O v i d : Metamorphoses, V, 5 2 9 - 5 5 0 317
Bagpipe Music 317

T O M PAULIN (b. 1949) 321

Pot Burial 321
W h e r e Art Is a Midwife 322
, Desertmartin 322
Off the Back of a Lorry 323
*A W r i t t e n Answer 324
T h e Lonely T o w e r 324

BIDDY J E N K I N S O N (b. 1949) 327

Cáitheadh 328
trans. Spray by Alex O s b o r n e 329

i MEDBH M c G U C K I A N (b. 1950) 330

T h e Seed-picture 330
Gateposts 331
 T h e Flower Master 332
T h e Sitting 332
Marconi's C o t t a g e 333
from Porcelain Bells: 3 Speaking into the Candles 334

PAUL M U L D O O N (b. 1951) 337

L u n c h with P a n c h o Villa 338
Cuba 339
Anseo 340
Gathering M u s h r o o m s 341
T h e M o r e a M a n Has the M o r e a M a n Wants 343
S o m e t h i n g Else 361
Cauliflowers 362

NUALA NÍ D H O M H N A I L L (b. 1952) 365

Scéala 366
trans. Annunciations by Michael H a r t n e t t • 367
Féar Suaithinseach 366
trans. Miraculous Grass by Seamus H e a n e y - 367
An B h á b ó g Bhriste 370
trans. T h e B r o k e n Doll 6 y J o h n M o n t a g u e 371
Fáilte Bhéal na Sionna d o n Iasc 372
trans. T h e S h a n n o n Estuary W e l c o m e s the Fish
by Patrick C r o t t y 373
An Bhean Mhídhílis 372
trans. T h e Unfaithful Wife by Paul M u l d o o n 373
Ceist na T e a n g a n 376
trans. T h e Language Issue by Paul M u l d o o n • 377
Caitlin 378
trans. C a t h l e e n by Paul M u l d o o n 379

M A T T H E W SWEENEY (b. 1952) 382

To the Building T r a d e 382
T u b e Ride to Martha's 383

MAURICE RIORDAN (b. 1953) 384

Milk 384
Time Out 385
A W o r d from the Loki 387

i i I O M A S M C C A R T H Y (b. 1 9 5 4 ) 390
State Funeral 390
Mr N a b o k o v ' s M e m o r y 391
Persephone, 1978 392
T h e Standing Trains 393

1954)
I A N I >l II IK • (I. 395
Li 11, II I.nth A ' I (Ihaneuon v>s
Reforms Agraria 396
PAULA M E E H A N (b. 1955) 398
T h e Pattern 398
Child Burial 401
Laburnum 402

SEAN D U N N E (1956-1995) 404

from Sydney Place: Beans, T h e M o b i l e , Railings,
T h e D e a d Pianist, T h e Bus Station, T h e Poet Upstairs,
T e a , T h e Lost Wife, T h e O l d School, T h e N i g h t Sky 404

CATHAL Ó SEARCAIGH (b. 1956) 407

Bó Bhradach 408
trans. A R u n a w a y C o w by Patrick C r o t t y 409
Na Píopaí Créafóige 408
trans. T h e Clay Pipes by Seamus H e a n e y 409
Caoineadh 412
trans. L a m e n t by Seamus H e a n e y 413

PETER SIRR (b. 1960) 414

A F e w Helpful Hints 414

PETER MCDONALD (b. 1962) 416

Sunday in Great T e w 416
Peacetime 419

MARTIN M O O N E Y (b. 1964) 421

Anna A k h m a t o v a ' s Funeral 421

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 423
INDEX OF POETS A N D TRANSLATORS 429
INDEX OF TITLES 430
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 433
 I N T R O D U C T I O N

So many strands of poetry in Ireland since the 1920s define themselves

against the exhilarating, overbearing example of W . B . Yeats that it might
be said that Irish writers make poetry less out of their quarrel with t h e m -
selves than out of their quarrel with the founder of the Literary Revival.
T h e poets included in this anthology reject the o t h e r - w o r l d l y pull of
the Celtic Twilight, and distrusr the plangent, resonant tones Yeats
b r o u g h t to even his most r o o t e d and earthy themes. James Joyce's
preference for the everyday and c o n t e m p o r a r y over the legendary -
that first, decisive revision of the Revival aesthetic - is endorsed by all
o f t h e m . Yet Austin Clarke, J o h n H e w i t t , Richard M u r p h y , T h o m a s
Kinsella, J o h n M o n t a g u e , Seamus H e a n e y , Michael Hartnett, Eavan
Boland and T o m Paulin extend a characteristically Yeatsian and Revivalist
practice insofar as they approach the present through a heroising reading
of the past (the Celtic R o m a n e s q u e period in Clarke, pre-history in
Kinsella, radical late-eighteenth-century Ulster in Paulin, and so on).
Indeed the very lack of a historical dimension in the w o r k of those poets
w h o take a stand on the primacy of the h e r e - a n d - n o w - Patrick
Kavanagh, Brian Coffey, Samuel Beckett, Louis MacNeice, Paul Durcan
and M e d b h M c G u c k i a n - offers the indirect h o m a g e of counterstate-
nient to the Literary Revival's premiss that only a recovery of the past
can effect liberation in the present. T h e realism of Kavanagh's TJie Great
I lunger is to be understood, in part at least, as a response to the A b b e y
Theatre's pastoralisation of peasant life. Similarly, though M a c N e i c e had
little use for Yeats's c o n c e p t of a specifically Irish tradition in English
poetry, he continually relocated himself in relation to the older writer
(his The Poetry of W.B. Yeats, published in 1941, was the first b o o k -
Icngth study of the poet).
It is true, ol course, that anxiety about Yeats's influence has been
lelt by poets e v e r y w h e r e in the English-speaking world over the last
three quarters of a t cntury Mu< h ol the verse ol subsequent dc< ades

l
has sought to absorb the implications of the modernist high tide of the
1920s, w h e n Yeats's The Tower, T.S. Eliot's Tfie Waste Land, Wallace
Stevens's Harmonium, William Carlos Williams's Spring and All, Ezra
P o u n d ' s Hugh Selwyn Mauberley and early Cantos, H u g h MacDiarmid's
Sangschaw and A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle and H a r t Crane's Wliite
Buildings all appeared within a few years of each other. Despite its variety
and e n h a n c e d social awareness, the poetry of the thirties and later fails
to sustain the energy and innovative flair of those volumes. Even as we
approach the end of the century Yeats and Eliot survive along with
Stevens, Williams and (to a perhaps diminishing degree) P o u n d as crucial
exemplars for anyone wishing to extend the possibilities of English poetic
idiom.
T h e loss of aesthetic optimism in the post-twenties period is perhaps
clearer in retrospect than it was at the time, at least in Britain and the
U n i t e d States. In Ireland, h o w e v e r , the sense of anti-climax was i m -
mediate and acute, for t w o reasons. Firstly, the disproportionate contri-
b u t i o n of Irish writers to the international modernist m o v e m e n t had
a disabling effect on subsequent, less gifted artists, not least because in
m a k i n g the matter of Ireland central to their w o r k , Yeats and Joyce
had exhausted many local possibilities of subject matter and attitude.
(It is no coincidence that Beckett, eventually installed as the third
m e m b e r of an Irish modernist triumvirate, elides geographical and
historical particulars from his writing.) Secondly, the upsurge in literary
activity had b e e n c o n n e c t e d to the political turbulence w h i c h found
resolution (of a sort) in the settlement of 1922. F r o m the rise of the
H o m e Rule and Land League m o v e m e n t s in the 1870s to the setting
up of N o r t h e r n Ireland and the Irish Free State, cultural identities w e r e
r e n d e r e d problematic as p o w e r relations with Britain and b e t w e e n the
various population groups within Ireland shifted. Cultural m y t h - m a k i n g
and self-confrontation in response to rapidly changing needs provided
an i m p e t u s for texts as diverse as Standish O ' G r a d y ' s History of Ireland,
J . M . Synge's The Playboy of the Western World, and Ulysses. By the time
J o y c e ' s novel appeared in 1922 the old Ascendancy class had retreated
to t h e margins of Irish life, and cultural as well as political p o w e r had
b e g u n to stabilise r o u n d n e w institutions w h i c h reflected the t r i u m p h
of t h e Gaelic/Catholic sect in the South and its Scots-Irish/Protestant
c o u n t e r p a r t in the N o r t h .
T h e r e is a feeling of aftermath in the w o r k of Clarke, Kavanagh and
H e w i t t , a taking stock as the dust of revolution settles. On both sides
of t h e b o r d e r the years 1922 to 1960 mark a period of retrenchment
and m o r e or less institutionalised Philistinism. In the South contemporary
literature was all b u t o u t l a w e d by the Censorship of Publications Act
(1929). Yeats's success in cultivating audiences at h o m e and abroad
eluded poets of the next generation w h o chose to live in or write mainly
about Ireland. T h e obscurity and near p e n u r y in w h i c h Clarke and
Kavanagh spent their lives was o n e c o n s e q u e n c e of this, the b r o k e n
trajectory of their careers another. Satire, m o r e than most modes, implies
an audience. In a painful paradox, the lack of a domestic public to receive
their w o r k helped drive Clarke and Kavanagh to satire, w h i l e the lack
of an audience for their satire r e d u c e d m u c h of what might have b e e n
forceful cultural and social c o m m e n t a r y to flailing, w o u l d - b e c o m i c
doggerel in the case of Kavanagh, and a species of m u t t e r i n g protest,
at once over-topical and arcane, in that of Clarke. T h e latter's increasing
d e p e n d e n c e on h o m o n y m i c r h y m e and other stylistic eccentricities
suggests an almost wilful self-subversion on the part of a writer w h o
k n o w s his complaints will go unheard. Louis M a c N e i c e ' s is the only
achievement of the period free of a sense of dissipated or misdirected
energies, and his w o r k was largely aimed at (and registered by) an
audience outside Ireland. T h o u g h Clarke, Kavanagh and Seán O
Ríordáin may equal him in stylistic ingenuity and moral p u r p o s e ,
M a c N e i c e w r o t e a strikingly greater n u m b e r of successful p o e m s than
they did. (This was b r o u g h t h o m e to me d u r i n g the compilation of
the present anthology, w h e n shortlists of t w o dozen p o e m s each by
Clarke and Kavanagh, and a slightly smaller n u m b e r by O Ríordáin,
rapidly emerged: it took m u c h labour to whittle MacNeice's w o r k d o w n
to a shortlist, and t h e n there w e r e well in excess of sixty items on it.)
T h e achievement of Clarke and Kavanagh is nonetheless considerable.
T h e fonner recuperated the intricate assonantal patterning of Gaelic verse
in a recognisably modernist i d i o m - as distinctive in its way as William
Empson's or T h e o d o r e Roethke's - and t u r n e d a potentially reactionary
regard for the past to the service of a libertarian vision. T h e latter was
the first writer to create wholly o u t of the vernacular English of Ireland
a poetic voice free of whimsy and folksiness. Irish poets after Kavanagh
are at last psychologically and technically sure of the resources of their
English m e d i u m : his example can be said to have m a d e possible t h e
freedom of address of such colloquially r o o t e d c o n t e m p o r a r y poetries
.is Heaney's, Durcan's and M u l d o o n ' s .
It was not, h o w e v e r , until the 1950s and the e m e r g e n c e of Richard
M u r p h y , T h o m a s Kinsella and J o h n M o n t a g u e - a generation b o r n in
the lust decade ol i n d e p e n d e n c e that post-Yeatsian Irish p o e t s began
to have professional careers, supported n o w by grants, literary prizes
a n d the g r o w i n g institUtionalisation ol poetry on both sides ol tin'
Atlantic. T h e cosmopolitan flavour of their w o r k reflects alike the ending
of the neutral South's wartime isolation and the significant periods spent
by these authors overseas, w h e t h e r in France, the U n i t e d States or Sn
Lanka. Kinsella's b r o o d i n g narratives relate the dislocations of psychic,
family and national history to universal perspectives on incoherence and
loss, while M o n t a g u e ' s erotic lyrics deploy a taut, u n e m p h a t i c line
derived from Williams, K e n n e t h Rexroth and Robert Greeley to
challenge the sexual glumness of m i d - c e n t u r y Ireland. T h e i r temptation
towards bardic c o m m e n t a r y on the social and e c o n o m i c changes of the
Lemass era reveals the confidence of these poets in their audience. In
Murphy's The Battle of Aughrim (1968), Kinsella's Nightwalker (1967) and
such portions of M o n t a g u e ' s Tlie Rough Field (1972) as had m a d e their
appearance by the e n d of the 1960s, history is a nightmare from w h i c h
the poetic consciousness has a w o k e n into m o d e r n i t y . For a y o u n g e r
generation north of the b o r d e r it was by contrast o n e w h o s e full terrors
w e r e about to be disclosed.
T h o m a s M a c G r e e v y , w h o s e w o r k opens the present anthology, has
been identified as the founder of a 'tradition of Irish m o d e r n i s m ' w h i c h
includes his friends Coffey, Beckett and Denis Devlin, along with a
n u m b e r of m o r e recent writers not represented here. T h e wish is s o m e -
times mistaken for the deed in discussion of this strand of Irish poetic
effort: t h o u g h these poets p r o d u c e d a n u m b e r of fine individual lyrics,
perhaps only Beckett can be said to have succeeded in developing -
as opposed to merely seeking - n e w forms. Indeed, it might be argued
that the modernist injunction to ' m a k e it n e w ' is h o n o u r e d m o r e by
Kinsella in pieces like ' H e n W o m a n ' and '38 P h o e n i x Street' - and
by such n o r t h e r n poets as M c G u c k i a n and M u l d o o n - than by any of
the self-consciously anti-traditional writers associated with MacGreevy.
T h e 'Irish modernists' share w i t h the Kinsella/Montague generation
an eagerness to a c c o m m o d a t e E u r o p e a n and American influences.
Internationalism and nationalism are close companions in Ireland, as they
are in Scotland, w h e r e poets from MacDiarmid to K e n n e t h W h i t e have
cultivated a cosmopolitan formal lineage to underscore their separateness
from an insular English tradition. (Patriotism gets mixed up in the debate
about m o d e r n i s m in England, t o o , of course, albeit in the opposite way:
a n t i - m o d e r n i s m was for Philip Larkin, Kingsley Amis and others in the
1950s a m o d e of chauvinism, an aesthetic forerunner to the E u r o -
scepticism of the 1990s.) M a n y of the writers associated with Liam
Miller's D o l m e n Press disapproved of what one of the foremost of t h e m ,
John M o n t a g u e , called the 'limiting British m o d e ' of the T h o m a s
I lardy/Edward Thomas/Philip I arkin axis. Ii was perhaps inevitable that
the appearance towards the end of the 1960s of a group of Belfast-based,
L o n d o n - p u b l i s h e d poets w h o displayed a preference for the tight,
traditionally derived forms of Larkin and the M o v e m e n t should have
been greeted w i t h a measure of suspicion south of the border. Seamus
Heaney, Michael Longley and D e r e k M a h o n , h o w e v e r , w e r e n o t
offering fifties English poetry at second hand. T h e tonalities of their
version o f ' t h e well-made lyric' involve what T e r e n c e B r o w n has called
'a tense astringency' deeply at odds w i t h the genteel weariness of the
parent m o d e . R e n e w e d rather than merely b o r r o w e d , that is to say,
the forms of n o r t h e r n poetry in the 1960s and early 1970s w e r e m a d e
as adequate to the fraught realities of their n e w socio-political context
as they had b e e n to the longueurs of suburban England.
W i t h their fidelity to local speech patterns, Heaney's verses in any
case w e r e from the beginning considerably r e m o v e d from the clipped
tones and edges of the M o v e m e n t lyric. Unease about the procedures
of his w o r k is so crucial to this poet's sense of artistic responsibility that
o n e must be wary of reading t o o m u c h into the m a n n e r of his progress
towards m o r e o p e n and varied forms. It can nonetheless be n o t e d that
H e a n e y d r o p p e d the regular stanzas of his first t w o books just as his
poetry was taking on an explicitly historical character in response to
the catastrophic turn of events in N o r t h e r n Ireland. His adoption of
an American-style short u n r h y m e d line for Wintering Out (1972) and
North (1975) may represent a last - and this time largely coincidental
- intersection b e t w e e n Insh nationalist politics and international m o d e m -
ism. M o r e recent n o r t h e r n writers have engaged as m u c h with trans-
atlantic as w i t h English examples, and have d o n e so in a m a n n e r w h i c h
u n d e r m i n e s the old assumptions about the cultural loyalties implicit in
procedural choices. Indeed o n e can read back from Ciaran Carson's
adaptation of the long line of C.K. Williams, or from Paul M u l d o o n ' s
grafting of A m e r i n d i a n legend to the stock of the English sonnet
sequence, to see in the orderliness of the 1960s w o r k of Heaney, Longley
and M a h o n an early expression of that vigorous, slightly distrustful
formalist eclecticism which has for three decades distinguished northern
poetry.
Regional characteristics are exhibited by the poetry of o t h e r parts of
Ireland t o o , of course - not least M u n s t e r , w h e r e the outstanding
t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y achievement has been in the Irish language, in the
work of Sc.in () Ríordáin and Nuala Ni D h o m h n a i l l , rather than in
the English spoken by the great majority of the population. T h e fact
ih.u the province's leading English-medium poet, Michael Hartnett,
'.prut .1 J e t .hie writing in.Hilly in It i s ] I may be fuitliei s\inptoiii.it h ol

'»
the vestigial life of the language in the Munster countryside. T h e Gaelic
literary tradition, h o w e v e r , had petered out in misery and doggerel
generations before the writers in the present anthology were b o m . Efforts
to resuscitate it began to bear fruit only as hopes of reversing or even
arresting the decline of the spoken language w e r e b e i n g abandoned.
T h e disappointing actuality of i n d e p e n d e n c e b r o k e the link b e t w e e n
lyric e n d e a v o u r and aspirant nationalism, allowing for the e m e r g e n c e
of a cautious, introspective, characteristically self-reflexive art. T h e
m o d e r n i t y of O Ríordáin and his C o n n a c h t c o n t e m p o r a r y Máirtín O
Direáin - a matter not only of psychology but of a rhythmic innovation
necessarily m o r e fundamental than anything in the A n g l o p h o n e poetry
of Ireland - highlights the unbridgeable nature of the gap separating
their w o r k from that of Aodhagán O Rathaille and o t h e r poets of the
eighteenth century.
T h e r e is a measure of continuity with the m o d e s of the past in the
poetry of Máire M h a c an tSaoi, b u t it is with amhráin na ndaoine - the
songs of the folk - rather than the elaborate art that died with O Rathaille.
An even m o r e remarkable receptiveness to the sub-literary, the
instinctual and the c o m m u n a l can be found in the verse of Nuala Ni
Dhomhnaill. W o m e n have m a d e an outstanding contribution to poetry
in Irish, particularly in the c o n t e m p o r a r y period. In English their
achievement is perhaps slightly less considerable, though a huge increase
in literary activity in line with the rise of the w o m e n ' s m o v e m e n t may
p r o v e the prelude to a revolution w h i c h will r e n d e r such a j u d g e m e n t
invalid by the turn of the century. As yet, h o w e v e r , recognition that
a feminist aesthetic demands n e w forms and cadences has been reflected
in the w o r k of few but the m o r e established writers: the poetries of
Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin and Eavan Boland have developed in stature
and complexity to embrace issues relating to the absence of w o m e n ' s
witness from received versions of history, while M e d b h M c G u c k i a n
has sought to reconstitute the figurative dynamics of the lyric according
to a fluid, non-linear logic.
T h e editorial discriminations of the anthology's closing pages - from
T h o m a s M c C a r t h y onwards - are necessarily tentative. M o r e verse by
y o u n g e r writers is appearing than ever before, b o t h in b o o k form and
in a wide range of periodicals. Contemporary Ireland is clearly hospitable
to n e w poetry. W h e t h e r it is in any serious sense responsive to it is
a n o t h e r matter, h o w e v e r , and there are signs that ease of publication
has begun to function as an e n e m y of promise. This may help to explain
w h y y o u n g poets appear to be taking longer to mature than .1 de< ade
01 t w o ago (though it < an hardly a< < ounl foi the fa< 1 thai t w o of the
strongest d e b u t collections of the 1990s have c o m e from Fergus Allen
and Maurice Riordan, writers in their seventies and forties respectively).
Pre-fabricated M u l d o o n e s q u e ironies are the staple of m u c h recent
writing from the N o r t h , while, south of the border, p e r f o r m a n c e -
oriented m o n o l o g u e s which flatter rather than challenge their audience
have wide currency.
T h e indifferent quality of such w o r k illustrates the dangers of
complacency. A n d yet it is true that Ireland continues to m a k e an
improbably strong contribution to poetry: many of the poems
r e p r o d u c e d here bear comparison w i t h the best written a n y w h e r e in
the English-speaking world since the 1920s. W h i l e my focus has b e e n
on achievement rather than activity - across the b o o k as a w h o l e and
within the individual selections - I have nonetheless sought to highlight
the range and variety of m o d e r n Irish verse. This has necessitated the
inclusion of works longer than it is customary to represent in anthologies.
For reasons of space some of these have had to be subjected to a process
of excision and I am particularly grateful to the poets and their
representatives w h o granted permission for the resulting cuts. (In no
case were these meant as challenges to the integrity of the original text.)
T h e w o r d modem in this anthology's title is used in the sense that we
speak of m o d e r n Ireland, Ireland since the settlement of 1922. Irish is
similarly intended inclusively, as a term capacious e n o u g h to encompass
the diversity of cultural identities within the island and to admit the
reality of the Irish diaspora in the writing of exiles, expatriates and their
offspring. T h e brief critical commentaries w h i c h precede each selection
are designed to afford an entry into the poetry: if the m o r e experienced
reader takes t h e m as starting points for debate, so m u c h the better.

LLANGAIN, C A R M A R T H E N
31 A U G U S T 1995

/
 T H O M A S M A C G R E E V Y

Born Tarbert, C o u n t y Kerry, 1893. Served as officer in British A r m y in

First W o r l d W a r . A r m y scholarship to Trinity College D u b l i n . Lived
L o n d o n , 1 9 2 4 - 6 , Paris, 1 9 2 6 - 3 3 . Lecteur at Ecole N o r m a l e Supérieure,
1926-30. Lectured at National Gallery, L o n d o n , 1 9 3 5 - 4 1 . Chevalier de
legion d ' h o n n e u r , 1948, Officier, 1962. D i r e c t o r of the National
Gallery of Ireland, 1 9 5 0 - 6 3 . Personally close to Joyce, Beckett and
Wallace Stevens. D i e d 1967.

In M a c G r e e v y ' s w o r k a modernist poetic serves a strikingly conservative

w o r l d - v i e w . Nationalist and Catholic pieties are rarely far from the
surface of the taut vers libre meditations from the 1920s w h i c h account
for most of his slender output. ' H o m a g e to H i e r o n y m u s Bosch' is an
allegory based on the failure of the provost of Trinity College D u b l i n to
respond to a request by ex-officer undergraduates to intervene with the
authorities on behalf of Kevin Barry, a republican student at University
College Dublin captured by the Black and Tans and hanged in 1920.
'Recessional' records a visit to Switzerland in 1925.

H O M A G E T O H I E R O N Y M U S BOSCH

A w o m a n w i t h n o face w a l k e d i n t o t h e l i g h t ;
A b o y , in a b r o w n - t r e e n o r f o l k suit,
Holding on
W i t h o u t hands
T o h e r s e e m i n g skirt.

She stopped,
A n d he stopped,
A n d I, in terror, stopped, staring.

T h e n I s a w a g r o u p o f s h a d o w y figures b e h i n d h e r .

It was a wild w e t m o r n i n g
But t h e little w o r l d w a s s p i n n i n g o n .
Liplessly, s o m e h o w , s h e a d d r e s s e d it:
The book must be opened
And the park too.

I might have tittered

But my teeth chattered
A n d I s a w t h a t t h e w o r d s , a s t h e y fell,
Lay, wriggling, o n t h e g r o u n d .

T h e r e w a s a stir o f w e t w i n d
A n d t h e s h a d o w y figures b e g a n t o stir
W h e n one I had thought dead
F i l m e d s l o w l y o u t o f his g r e a t effigy o n a t o m b n e a r b y
A n d t h e y all s h u d d e r e d
He b e n t as if to speak to t h e w o m a n
B u t t h e n u r s e r y g o v e r n o r flew u p o u t o f t h e well o f Saint Patrick,
C o n f i s c a t e d b y his m i s t r e s s ,
A n d , his h e a d b e n t ,
S t a r i n g o u t o v e r his s p e c t a c l e s ,
A n d scratching the gravel furiously,
Hissed -
T h e w o r d s w e n t pingg! l i k e b u l l e t s ,
U p w a r d s past his s p e c t a c l e s -
Say nothing, I say, say nothing, say nothing!
A n d h e w h o h a d s e e m e d t o b e c o m i n g t o life
Gasped,
B e g a n hysterically, to laugh a n d cry,
A n d , w i t h a gesture of i m p o t e n t and half-petulant despair,
F i l m e d b a c k i n t o his effigy a g a i n .

H i g h above the Bank of Ireland

Unearthly music sounded,
Passing w e s t w a r d s .

T h e n , from the drains,

S m a l l s e w a g e rats slid o u t .
T h e y n u m b e r e d hundreds of hundreds, tens, thousands.
E a c h b o w e d o b s e q u i o u s l y t o t h e s h a d o w y figures
T h e n t u r n e d a n d j o i n e d i n a s t o m a c h d a n c e w i t h his b r o t h e r s
a n d sisters.
B e i n g a multitude, t h e y danced i r r e g u l a r l y .

10
T h e r e w a s rat l a u g h t e r ,
Deeper here and there,
A n d o c c a s i o n a l l y s h e - r a t cries g r e w h y s t e r i c a l .
T h e s h a d o w y figures l o o k e d o n , a g o n i z e d .
T h e w o m a n w i t h n o face g a v e a c r y a n d c o l l a p s e d .
T h e rats d a n c e d o n h e r
A n d on the wriggling words
Smirking.
T h e nursery g o v e r n o r flew back i n t o t h e well
W i t h t h e little f i g u r e w i t h o u t h a n d s i n t h e b r o w n - t r e e c l o t h

RECESSIONAL

I n t h e b r i g h t b r o a d Swiss glare I s t a n d l i s t e n i n g
T o t h e o u t r a g e o u s roars
Of the Engelbergeraa
A s i t swirls d o w n t h e g o r g e
A n d I t h i n k I am t h i n k i n g
Of Roderick Hudson.
B u t , as I s t a n d ,
T i m e closes o v e r s i g h t ,
And sound
Is d r o w n e d
B y a l o n g silvery r o a r
F r o m t h e far e n d s o f m e m o r y
Of a w o r l d I h a v e left
A n d I find I am t h i n k i n g :
Supposing I drowned n o w ,
T h i s tired, tiresome b o d y ,
B e f o r e flesh creases f u r t h e r ,
M i g h t , r e c o v e r e d , g o fair,
T o b e laid i n S a i n t L a c h t i n ' s ,
Near where once,
In t e n d e r , less g l a r i n g , island days
A n d ways
I could hear -
W l i c i c listeners still h e a r

11
T h a t far-away, dear
Roar
T h e l o n g , silvery r o a r
O f Mai Bay.
 A U S T I N C L A R K E

Born D u b l i n , 1896. Educated at Belvedere College and University

College Dublin. Lecturer in English at U C D , 1 9 1 7 - 2 1 . Relieved of his
post due to official disapproval of his marital circumstances. W o r k e d as
literary journalist in L o n d o n , 1 9 2 2 - 3 7 . Thereafter lived in Dublin until
his death in 1974. A u t h o r of verse plays, autobiographies and three
highly regarded prose romances, The Bright Temptation (1932), Tie
Singing Men at Cashel (1936) and Tie Sun Dances at Easter (1952).

C Clarke's prosodic innovations - his efforts to develop what his m e n t o r

T h o m a s M a c D o n a g h called 'an Irish m o d e ' - link h i m b o t h to the
cultural nationalism of the Literary Revival and the modernist localism
of William Carlos Williams and H u g h M a c D i a r m i d . Historical settings
and a Gaelicised metric cloak the early poetry's c o m m e n t a r y on the
disenchantments of post-revolutionary Ireland. After a seventeen-year
silence Clarke returned w i t h a m o r e directly satirical and topical voice in
1955. T h e first seven p o e m s in the selection c o m e from the earlier
i areer, the last four from the later. In b o t h phases the poet measures the
tawdriness of the present against the splendour of the past, and identifies
spiritual with sexual freedom. His social criticisms derive m u c h of their
force from his sense that the civil and ecclesiastical authorities in m o d e r n
I n l a n d have betrayed their heritage. ' T h e Lost Heifer' seeks amid
i IK mayhem of the Irish Civil W a r (1922-3) to resurrect the old Gaelic
image of Ireland as ' D r o i m e a n n D o n n Dilis' (faithful b r o w n heifer).
' I he Straying Student' rewrites as a paean to sexual emancipation an
e i g h t e e n t h - c e n t u r y song about a repentant, love-lorn friar. In 'Martha
HI.ike at Fifty-one' the unilluminating indignities of the life and
death of a pious Dublin spinster are c o u n t e r p o i n t e d by the visions of
S.MIII Teresa of Avila, Saint T h é r é s e of Lisieux and Saint J o h n of the
< IOSS. Eroticism - always for Clarke a m o d e of political resistance -
emerges in the very late 'Tiresias' (1971) as a celebration of an
achieved personal i n d e p e n d e n c e .

IIII I ( ) S I III II I . k

When the l>l.i< k h e r d s o l t h e rain w e r e g r a z i n g

In the gap «'l i h e pure < o l d w i n d

11
A n d the w a t e r y hazes of the hazel
Brought her into my mind,
I t h o u g h t o f t h e last h o n e y b y t h e w a t e r
T h a t no hive can find.

Brightness was drenching t h r o u g h the branches

W h e n she w a n d e r e d again,
T u r n i n g t h e silver o u t o f d a r k grasses
W h e r e t h e skylark h a d lain,
A n d h e r v o i c e c o m i n g softly o v e r t h e m e a d o w
W a s t h e m i s t b e c o m i n g rain.

from T H E Y O U N G W O M A N OF BEARE

T h r o u g h lane or black archway,

T h e praying people hurry,
W h e n shadows have been walled,
A t m a r k e t hall a n d g a t e ,
B y l o w f i r e s after nightfall;
T h e b r i g h t sodalities
Are bannered in the churches;
But I am only roused
By horsemen of de Burgo
T h a t gallop t o m y h o u s e .

G o l d slots o f t h e s u n l i g h t
C l o s e u p m y lids a t e v e n i n g .
H a l f clad i n s i l k e n piles
I lie u p o n a h o t c h e e k .
H a l f i n d r e a m I lie t h e r e
Until bad thoughts have b l o o m e d
In flushes of desire.
Drowsy with indulgence,
I please a s e c r e t e y e
T h a t opens at the Judgment.

I am the bright temptation

In talk, in w i n e , in s l e e p .
A l t h o u g h t h e clergy p r a y .

i i
I t r i u m p h in a d r e a m .
Strange armies tax t h e s o u t h ,
Y e t little d o I c a r e
W h a t fiery bridge or t o w n
Has heard the shout begin -
T h a t O r m o n d ' s m e n are o u t
A n d the Geraldine is in.

T h e w o m e n a t g r e e n stall
A n d doorstep on a weekday,
W h o have b e e n c h i n n e d w i t h scorn
O f m e , w o u l d n e v e r sleep
So well, could they but k n o w
Their husbands turn at midnight,
A n d covet in a d r e a m
T h e t o u c h i n g o f m y flesh.
Small w o n d e r that m e n k n e e l
T h e longer at confession.

Bullies, that fight in d r a m s h o p

F o r f l u t t e r e d rags a n d b a r e side
At beggars' bush, m a y gamble
To-night on what they find.
I laze in y e l l o w l a m p l i g h t -
Y o u n g wives have envied me -
A n d l a u g h a m o n g lace p i l l o w s ,
For a b i g - b o o t e d captain
H a s p o u r e d t h e p u r s e o f silver
T h a t glitters i n m y l a p .

H e a v i l y o n his e l b o w ,
H e t u r n s f r o m a caress
T o see - a s m y a r m s o p e n -
T h e r e d spurs o f m y breast.
I d r a w fair pleats a r o u n d m e
A n d stay his e y e a t p l e a s u r e ,
Show but a white knee-cap
Or an i m m o d e s t smile -
U n t i l his s u d d e n h a n d
I las d a r e d t h e silks that b i n d m e .

is
S e e ! S e e , as f r o m a l a t h e
My polished b o d y turning!
H e bares m e a t t h e waist
A n d n o w blue clothes uncurl
U p o n w h i t e h a u n c h . I let
T h e last b r i g h t s t i t c h fall d o w n
F o r h i m as I l e a n b a c k ,
Straining w i t h longer arms
A b o v e m y h e a d t o snap
T h e silver k n o t s o f s l e e p .

T o g e t h e r in the dark -
Sin-fast - w e c a n e n j o y
W h a t is allowed in marriage.
T h e jingle of that coin
I s still t h e s a m e , t h o u g h s t o l e n :
B u t are t h e y n o t u n t h r i f t y ,
W h o spend it in a shame
T h a t b r i n g s ill a n d r e p e n t a n c e ,
W h e n t h e y m i g h t p i n c h a n d save
T h e m s e l v e s i n lawful p l e a s u r e ?

T H E PLANTER'S D A U G H T E R

W h e n n i g h t s t i r r e d a t sea
A n d t h e fire b r o u g h t a c r o w d i n ,
T h e y say t h a t h e r b e a u t y
Was music in m o u t h
A n d few in the candlelight
Thought her too proud,
For the house of the planter
Is k n o w n by the trees.

M e n that had seen her

D r a n k d e e p a n d w e r e silent,
T h e w o m e n were speaking
W h e r e v e r she w e n t -
As a b e l l t h a t is r u n g
Or a w o n d e r told shyly.
 A n d O she was the Sunday
In every week.

CELIBACY

O n a b r o w n isle o f L o u g h C o r r i b ,
W h e n clouds w e r e bare as branch
A n d water had been thorned
By c o l d e r d a y s , I s a n k
In t o r m e n t of h e r side;
B u t still t h a t w o m a n s t a y e d ,
For eye obeys the m i n d .

Bedraggled in the briar

A n d g r e y fire o f t h e n e t t l e ,
T h r e e n i g h t s , I fell, I g r o a n e d
O n t h e flagstone o f h e l p
To pluck her from my body;
For servant ribbed w i t h h u n g e r
M a y c l i m b his r u n g s t o G o d .

Eyelid stood back in sleep,

I saw w h a t s e e m e d an Angel:
D e w s d r i p p e d f r o m t h o s e b r i g h t feet.
But, O, I k n e w the stranger
By her deceit and, tired
All n i g h t b y t e m p t i n g f l e s h ,
I w r e s t l e d h e r in h a i r - s h i r t .

O n pale k n e e s i n t h e d a w n ,
Parting the straw that w r a p p e d m e ,
She sank until I saw
T h e b r i g h t r o o t s o f h e r scalp.
She pulled m e d o w n t o sleep,
B u t I fled as t h e B a p t i s t
T o thistle a n d t o r e e d .

The d r a g o n s o l t h e G o s p e l
A i c t asl 1 »v bell a n d < 11 >< >k;

l /
 B u t fiery as t h e frost
O r bladed light, she d r e w
T h e reeds back, w h e n I fought
T h e a r r o w - h e a d e d airs
That darken on the water.

MARTHA BLAKE

Before the day is e v e r y w h e r e

A n d the t i m i d w a r m t h o f sleep
Is delicate on l i m b , she dares
T h e silence o f t h e street
U n t i l t h e d o u b l e bells are t h r o w n b a c k
For Mass and echoes b o u n d
In the chapel yard, O t h e n her soul
Makes bold in the arms of sound.

But in the shadow of the nave

H e r w e l l - t a u g h t k n e e s are h u m b l e ,
S h e d o e s n o t see t h r o u g h a n y saint
T h a t stands in t h e sun
W i t h v e i n s o f l e a d , w i t h painful c r o w n ;
She waits that d r e a d e d c o m i n g ,
W h e n all t h e c o n g r e g a t i o n b o w s
And none may look up.

T h e w o r d i s said, t h e W o r d s e n t d o w n ,
T h e miracle is d o n e
B e n e a t h those hands that have b e e n r o u n d e d
O v e r the embodied cup,
A n d w i t h a f e w , s h e leaves h e r p l a c e
K e p t b y a n east-filled w i n d o w
A n d k n e e l s a t t h e c o m m u n i o n rail
Starching beneath her chin.

S h e t r e m b l e s for t h e S o n o f M a n ,
W h i l e the priest is m u r m u r i n g
W h a t s h e c a n scarcely tell, h e r h e a r t
Is m a k i n g s u c h a stir;
B u t w h e n he picks a particle
A n d she puts o u t her t o n g u e ,
T h a t j o y is the glittering of candles
A n d benediction sung.

H e r soul is lying in t h e P r e s e n c e
U n t i l h e r senses, o n e
By o n e , desiring to attend her,
C o m e a s for feast a n d r u n
S o fast t o s h a r e t h e s a c r a m e n t ,
H e r m o u t h must mother them:
' S w e e t t o o t h g r o w wise, lip, g u m b e gentle,
I touch a purple hem.'

Afflicted b y t h a t l o v e s h e t u r n s
T o m u l t i p l y h e r praise,
G o e s o v e r all t h e foolish w o r d s
A n d finds t h e y are t h e s a m e ;
B u t n o w s h e feels w i t h i n h e r b r e a s t
S u c h c a l m t h a t s h e is s i l e n t ,
For soul can n e v e r be i m m o d e s t
W h e r e b o d y m a y n o t listen.

On a holy day of obligation

I s a w h e r first in p r a y e r ,
B u t m o r t a l e y e h a d b e e n t o o late
F o r all t h a t t h o u g h t c o u l d d a r e .
T h e flame in heart is never grieved
T h a t pride and intellect
W e r e cast b e l o w , w h e n G o d r e v e a l e d
A h e a v e n for this e a r t h .

So to begin the c o m m o n day

She needs a miracle,
K n o w i n g t h e safety o f a n g e l s
T h a t see h e r h o m e a g a i n ,
Y e t i g n o r a n t o f all t h e rest,
T h e h i d d e n grace that p e o p l e
I l u r r y i n g to b u s i n e s s
I o o k alter in the street

1«;
 T H E STRAYING S T U D E N T

O n a h o l y d a y w h e n sails w e r e b l o w i n g s o u t h w a r d ,
A bishop sang t h e Mass at I n i s h m o r e ,
M e n t o o k o n e side, their wives w e r e o n t h e o t h e r
But I heard the w o m a n c o m i n g from the shore:
A n d wild in despair my parents cried aloud
For they saw the vision d r a w me to the d o o r w a y .

L o n g had she lived i n R o m e w h e n P o p e s w e r e bad,

T h e w e a l t h o f every age she m a k e s h e r o w n ,
Y e t smiled on me in eager admiration,
A n d for a s u m m e r t a u g h t m e all I k n o w ,
Banishing shame w i t h h e r great laugh that rang
As if a pillar c a u g h t it b a c k a l o n e .

I learned the p r o u d e r counsel of her throat,

My m i n d was g r o w i n g b o l d as light in G r e e c e ;
A n d w h e n i n sleep h e r stirring limbs w e r e s h o w n ,
I blessed the n o o n d a y r o c k that k n e w no tree:
A n d for a n h o u r t h e m o u n t a i n w a s h e r t h r o n e ,
A l t h o u g h h e r eyes w e r e bright w i t h m o c k e r y .

T h e y say I w a s s e n t b a c k f r o m S a l a m a n c a
A n d failed i n l o g i c , b u t I w r o t e h e r praise
N i n e times u p o n a college wall in France.
S h e laid h e r h a n d a t darkfall o n m y p a g e
T h a t I m i g h t read t h e heavens in a glance
A n d I k n e w e v e r y star t h e M o o r s h a v e n a m e d .

A w a k e or in my sleep, I have no peace n o w ,

B e f o r e t h e ball i s s t r u c k , m y b r e a t h has g o n e ,
A n d y e t I t r e m b l e lest s h e m a y d e c e i v e m e
A n d l e a v e m e i n this l a n d , w h e r e e v e r y w o m a n ' s s o n
M u s t c a r r y his o w n coffin a n d b e l i e v e ,
I n d r e a d , all t h a t t h e c l e r g y t e a c h t h e y o u n g .

»0
 PENAL LAW

B u r n O v i d w i t h t h e rest. L o v e r s w i l l find
A h e d g e - s c h o o l for themselves and learn by heart
All t h a t t h e c l e r g y b a n i s h f r o m t h e m i n d ,
W h e n h a n d s are j o i n e d a n d h e a d b o w s i n t h e d a r k .

ST CHRISTOPHER

C h i l d t h a t his s t r e n g t h u p b o r e ,
K n o t t e d as t r e e - t r u n k s i' the spate,
B e c a m e a giant, w h o s e w e i g h t
U n e a r t h e d the river from shore
T i l l saint's b o n e s w e r e a - c r a c k .
F a b u l i s t , c a n an ill state
Like ours, carry so great
A C h u r c h u p o n its b a c k ?

EARLY UNFINISHED SKETCH

R o s a l i n d , in a negligee,
B e g a n t o s k e t c h m e a s I lay
N a k e d and s o o n her serious t o u c h
On sheet delighted me as m u c h
I n art a s l o v i n g . P e n c i l d r e w ,
Poised, m e a s u r e d again, sped d o w n w a r d , flew
Like love scattering clothes to greet
Itself. T h e o u t l i n e w a s c o m p l e t e .
She p o n d e r e d . Detail was different,
M o r e difficult. S h e s e e m e d i n t e n t
O n w h a t the ancients had adored,
Christian apologists d e p l o r e d .
' F i n i s h it, p e t , h o w c a n I w a i t ? '
'But, darling, I must c o n c e n t r a t e . '
S h e failed, fled b a c k t o o u r caresses,
Sat u p
' W h a t s wrong?'
 ' T h e p r o b l e m presses.'
' I h a v e it! Y e s . T h a t g r o u p i n b r o n z e . '
' T h e satyrs?'
' H e r r i c k w o u l d call t h e m f a u n s . '
'Stock-still - '
'in t h e fountain spray at F l o r e n c e . '
'All t o u r i s t s s h o w i n g t h e i r a b h o r r e n c e ! '
'But if that sculptor dared to limn it -'
' T h e n u d e , to-day, must have a limit.'
' A n d Rosalind -'
' o b e y t h e laws
O f decency.'
'In the line she draws?'

MARTHA BLAKE AT FIFTY-ONE

Early, each m o r n i n g , M a r t h a Blake

Walked, angeling the road,
T o Mass i n t h e C h u r c h o f t h e T h r e e P a t r o n s .
Sanctuary lamp glowed
A n d the clerk halo'ed the candles
O n t h e H i g h Altar. She knelt
Illumined. In g o l d - h e m m e d alb,
T h e priest i n t o n e d . W a x m e l t e d .

W a i t i n g for daily C o m m u n i o n , b o w e d h e a d
A t rail, s h e h e a r s a m u r m u r .
L a t i n is n e a r . In a s w e e t c l o u d
T h a t c h e r u b ' d , all o c c u r r e d .
T h e voice w e n t by. T o her pure thought,
B o d y w a s a distress
A n d s o u l , a sigh. B e h i n d h e r d e n t u r e ,
L o v e lay, a h e l p l e s s n e s s .

T h e n , s l o w l y w a l k i n g after M a s s
D o w n Rathgar R o a d , she t o o k o u t
H e r Yale key, p u t a m a t c h to gas-ring,
Half filled a saucepan, c o o k e d
A fresh e g g l i g h t l y , w i t h t e a , b r o w n b r e a d ,
S o o n , t a k i n g off h e r b l o u s e
A n d skirt, s h e r e s t e d , p r e s s i n g t h e C r o w n
O f T h o r n s until she d r o w s e d .

I n h e r b l a c k h a t , s t o c k i n g s , s h e passed
N y l o n s to a nearby shop
A n d p u r c h a s e d , daily, w i t h d o w n c a s t e y e s ,
Fillet o f s t e a k o r a c h o p .
She s i m m e r e d it on a l o w jet,
Having a poor appetite,
Y e t n e v e r for a n h o u r felt b e t t e r
F r o m dilatation, tightness.

S h e suffered f r o m d r o p p e d s t o m a c h , h e a r t b u r n
Scalding, water-brash
A n d w h e n she b r o u g h t h e r w i n d u p , t u r n i n g
Red with the weight of mashed
Potato, m i n t could not relieve her.
In vain her m a n y belches,
F o r all b e l o w w a s s w e l l i n g , h e a v i n g
W a m b l e , gurgle, squelch.

S h e lay o n t h e sofa w i t h legs u p ,

A d e c a d e on h e r lip,
At four o'clock, taking a c u p
O f l u k e w a r m w a t e r , sip
B y sip, b u t still h e r daily f o o d
R e p e a t e d and the bile
T o r m e n t e d her. In a blue h o o d ,
T h e V i r g i n sadly s m i l e d .

W h e n she l o o k e d u p , t h e S a v i o u r s h o w e d
His Heart, daggered w i t h flame
And, from the mantle-shelf, St J o s e p h
Bent, disapproving. Vainly
S h e p r a y e d , for i n t h e w h a t n o t c o r n e r
T h e n e w P o p e was f r o w n i n g . N i g h t
A n d d a y , dull p a i n , a s i n h e r c o r n s ,
R e c o u n t e d every bite.

2I
She thought of St Teresa, floating
On motes of a sunbeam,
C a r m e l i t e w i t h scatterful r o b e s ,
Surrounded by demons,
Small black boys in t h e i r skin. She g a p e d
A t H e l l : a m u d d y passage
T h a t led to nothing, q u e e r in shape,
A c u p b o a r d closely fastened.

S o m e t i m e s , t h e walls o f t h e p a r l o u r
W o u l d fade a w a y . N o p l o d
O f feet, r a t t l e o f v a n , i n G a r v i l l e
Road. Soul n o w gone abroad
W h e r e saints, l i k e m e d i e v a l serfs,
H a d laboured. Great sun-flower shone.
O u r Lady's C h a p e l was b o r n e b y seraphs,
T h r e e leagues b e y o n d A n c o n a .

H i g h t o w n s o f Italy, t h e p l a i n
Of France, were k n o w n to Martha
As she read in a h o l y b o o k . T h e sky-blaze
N o o n e d at Padua,
Marble grotto of Bernadette.
R o s e - s c a t t e r e r s . N e w saints
I n t r o p i c a l Africa w h e r e t h e tsetse
F l y p r o b e s , t h e forest t a i n t s .

Teresa had heard the Lutherans

H o w l i n g o n r e d - h o t spit,
A n d grill, m e n w h o h a d s e a r c h e d for t r u t h
Alone in Holy Writ.
S o M a r t h a , fearful o f f l a m e l a s h i n g
T h o s e heretics, each instant,
N e v e r dealt in the haberdashery
Shop, o w n e d b y t w o Protestants.

In a m b u s h of night, an angel w o u n d e d
T h e Spaniard to the heart
W i t h i r o n t i p o n fire. S w o o n i n g
W i t h p a i n a n d bliss as a dart

' i
M o v e d up and d o w n within her bowels
Q u i c k e r , q u i c k e r , e a c h cell
Sweating as if rubbed up with towels,
H e r spirit r o s e a n d fell.

St J o h n of the Cross, h e r friend, in prison

Awaits the bridal night,
P a l e r t h a n lilies, his w i z e n e d s k i n
F l o w e r s . I n fifths o f flight,
Senses b e y o n d seraphic t h o u g h t ,
I n t h a t d i v i n e s t clasp,
E n f o l d i n g o f kisses t h a t c a u t e r i z e ,
Yield to the soul-spasm.

C u n n i n g in b o d y had c o m e to hate
All t h i s a n d s t i r r e d b y m i s c h i e f
H a l e d M a r t h a from h e a v e n . H e a r t palpitates
A n d t e r r o r i n h e r stiffens.
H e a r t misses o n e b e a t , t w o . . . flutters . . . s t o p s .
H e r ears a r e full o f s o u n d .
H a l f f a i n t i n g , s h e stares a t t h e g r a n d f a t h e r c l o c k
As if it w e r e o v e r w o u n d .

T h e fit h a d c o m e . I l l - n a t u r e d flesh
Despised h e r soul. N o b e n d i n g
C o u l d ease r i b . A r o u n d h e r h e a r t , p r e s s u r e
Of w i n d grew worse. Again,
A g a i n , a r m c h a i r e d w i t h o u t relief,
She eructated, phlegm
I n m o u t h , f o r g o t t h e w o e , t h e grief,
Foretold at Bethlehem.

T i r e d o f t h e s a m e faces, s i d e - a l t a r s ,
She w e n t to the Carmelite C h u r c h
A t J o h n s o n ' s C o u r t , c o n f e s s e d h e r faults,
There, once a week, purchased
T e a , b u t t e r i n C h a t h a m St. T h e p o n d
In St S t e p h e n ' s G r e e n was grand.
S h e w a t c h e d t h e seagulls, d u c k s , b l a c k s w a n ,
W e n t h o m e by the IS train.
H e r beads in hand, M a r t h a b e c a m e
A m e m b e r of the Third Order,
Saved from long purgatorial pain,
B r o w n habit and w h i t e cord
H e r o w n w h e n c e r g e s h a d b e e n lit
A r o u n d h e r coffin. S h e g o t
N i n e t y - f i v e p o u n d s o n l o a n for h e r b i t
O f clay i n t h e c o m m o n p l o t .

O f t e n she t h o u g h t o f a q u i e t s i c k - w a r d ,
N u n s , with delicious ways,
Consoling the miserable; quick
T e a , toast o n trays. W i s h i n g
T o rid t h e m s e l v e s o f h e r , k i n d n e i g h b o u r s
S e n t for t h e a m b u l a n c e ,
B e f o r e h e r b r o t h e r a n d sister c o u l d h u r r y
T o help her. Big gate clanged.

N o medical examination
For the n e w patient. D o c t o r
H a d g o n e t o C o r k o n holidays.
T e l e p h o n e sprang. Hall-clock
Proclaimed the quarters. Clatter of heels
O n tiles. C o r r i d o r , w a r d ,
A - w h i r r w i t h the electric cleaner,
T h e creak of w i n d o w cord.

She c o u l d n o t sleep at night. Feeble

A n d old, t w o w o m e n raved
A n d cried to G o d . She held her beads.
O h o w c o u l d s h e b e saved?
T h e h o s p i t a l h a d this a n d t h a t r u l e .
Day-chill unshuttered. N u n , with
T h e r m o m e t e r in reticule,
W e n t by. T h e w o m e n m u m b l e d .

M o t h e r Superior believed
T h a t she was obstinate, self-willed.
Sisters i g n o r e d h e r , h a n d s - i n - s l e e v e s ,
B e s i d e a p a n t r y shelf

26
 O r c o u n t i n g pillow-case, soiled sheet.
T h e y gave h e r purgatives.
Soul-less, she t o t t e r e d to t h e toilet.
O n l y her b o d y lived.

W a s t e d b y colitis, r e f u s e d
T h e daily s a c r a m e n t
By regulation, fobidden use
O f b e d - p a n , w h e n meals w e r e sent u p ,
B e h i n d a s c r e e n , s h e lay, s h i v e r i n g ,
U n a b l e t o eat. T h e s o u p
W a s greasy, m u t t o n , b e e f o r liver,
C o l d . K i t c h e n has n o s c r u p l e s .

T h e N u n s h a d let t h e field i n f r o n t
As an A m u s e m e n t Park,
M e r r y - g o - r o u n d , a n o i s y m o n t h , all
H e l t e r i n g - s k e l t e r i n g a t darkfall,
Mechanical music, dipper, hold-tights,
R i f l e - c r a c k , crash o f d o d g e m s .
T h e w a r d , godless w i t h s h a d o w , lights,
H o w c o u l d she pray t o G o d ?

Unpitied, wasting with diarrhea

A n d t h e c o n s t a n t strain,
P o o r C h i l d o f M a r y w i t h o n e idea,
S h e r u p t u r e d a small v e i n ,
Bled inwardly t o jazz. N o priest
C a m e . She had b e e n anointed
T w o days b e f o r e , y e t k n e w n o p e a c e :
H e r last b r e a t h , d i s a p p o i n t e d .

from TIRESIAS, II

'Strolling o n e day, b e y o n d the Kalends, on M o u n t Cyllene,

W h a t s h o u l d I spy n e a r t h e d u s t y track b u t a c o u p l e o f s u n - s p o t t e d
Snakes w n t h e n together flashen a s t h e y c o p u l a t e d ,
I >it-.niiily' ( a n i o n s a b o u t t h e o r i g i n ol s p e c i e s , I t o u c h e d t h e m .
I linn shrank I fell in alarm t w o ugly t u m o u r s
Swell from m y chest. J u n o , o u r universal m o t h e r , y o u
K n o w h o w easily a c h i l d w e t s t h e b e d a t n i g h t . P a r d o n
Frankness in saying that my enlarged bladder let g o . " G o d s , " it
Lamented, "has he b e c o m e an unfortunate w o m a n , h u m b l e d by
Fate, yes, forced twice a day, to c r o u c h d o w n on h e r hunkers?
L e a f - c u t t i n g b e e affrights m e , A r i a d n e w i t h i n h e r w e b - r o u n d s . "
T i m i d l y h i d d e n a s h a m a d r y a d against h e r o a k - b a r k ,
I d a r e d to pull up resisting t u n i c , e x p o s e my n e w breasts -
Saw t h e y w e r e beautiful. Lightly I fingered the nipples
A n d a s t h e y c h e r r i e d , I felt b e l o w t h e b u r n i n g a n s w e r ;
Still d r e n c h e d , 1 g l a n c e d d o w n , b u t o n l y a m o d e s t y o f a u b u r n
C u r l e t s w a s t h e r e . I f a m a n w h o s e l i m b has b e e n a m p u t a t e d
Still feels t h e t h r o b o f c u t a r t e r i e s , c o u l d I f o r g e t n o w
P r i c k l e o f p i n t e l ? H o u r - l o n g I g r i e v e d u n t i l full m o o n l i g h t ,
E n t e r i n g t h e f o r e s t r y , s i l v e r e d m y breasts. T h e y r o s e u p s o c a l m l y ,
So p r o u d , that peace - taking my h a n d in gladness - led me
H o m e , escorted by lucciole.

O n e fine d a y
D u r i n g siesta I g a z e d i n r e v e r e n c e a t m y n a k e d
B o d y , slim a s a n e s p o l i t r e e , d a r e d t o p l a c e m y s h a v i n g
M i r r o r o f p o l i s h e d silver - a b i r t h d a y gift f r o m m y m o t h e r -
B e t w e e n m y legs, i n s p e c t e d this w a y a n d t h a t , t h e fleshy
F o l d s g u a r d i n g t h e s h o r t c u t , r e d a s m y real lips, t o P l e a s u r e
Pass. N e x t d a y I a w o k e i n a l a r m , felt a t r i c k l e o f b l o o d half-
W a y d o w n m y thigh.
" M o t h e r , " I sobbed.
" O u r bold Penates
Pricked me during sleep."
" L e t m e l o o k a t it, P y r r h a . "
She laughed,
then
Said:
" W h y it's n o t h i n g t o w o r r y a b o u t , m y p e t , all w o m e n
Suffer this s h a m e e v e r y m o n t h . "
" W h a t does it m e a n ? "
" T h a t y o u are
R e a d y for n u p t i a l b l i s s . "
A n d s a y i n g this, s h e c l e a n s e d , b a n d a g e d ,
B o u n d m y flowers.
W h e n I r e c o v e r e d , .1 b u r n i n g s e n s a t i o n

2H
S t a y e d . Restless a t n i g h t , l y i n g o n m y b e l l y , I l o n g e d for
Mortal or centaur to surprise m e .
O n e day during
Siesta, I p u t o n m y t a n a g r a dress, t i g h t l y
B e l t e d , w i t h f l o u n c y skirt, a n d c a r r y i n g a b l u e m a n t l e ,
Tiptoed from our h o m e by shuttered w i n d o w , barred shop-front,
Local t e m p l e , t o o k t h e s e c o n d t u r n a t t h e t r i v i u m ,
R e a c h e d a sultriness of hills.
I w e n t up a m u l e - t r a c k
T h r o u g h a high w o o d b e y o n d the pasturage: a shepherd's
Bothy was there before m e . I peeped, saw a b e d of bracken
C o v e r e d w i t h a w o r n s h e e p - s k i n . I v e n t u r e d in: l i s t e n e d ,
H e a r d far a w a y clink-clank, clink-clank as a b e l l - w e t h e r
G r a z e d w i t h his flock w h i l e m a s t e r a n d d o g w e r e m y r t l e d
S o m e w h e r e in the coolness. By n o w I had almost forgotten
M u c h o f m y past, y e t r e m e m b e r e d t h e l o v e - s o n g s t h a t s h e p h e r d s
Piped a m o n g rock-roses to pretty b o y or shy goat-girl.
W a s i t a p a s t o r a l air t h a t h a d l e d m e t o this b o t h y ?
Surely I was mistaken. Paper-knife, p u m i c e , goose-quill,
Manuscripts, had b e e n piled untidily together,
I n k s t a n d , w a x t a b l e t s , small p a i n t - b r u s h e s o n a r u s t i c
Table.
" A s t u d e n t lives h e r e , "
I thought,
and half-undressing,
Wearily spreading my cloak along the sheep-skin,
Lay o n b l u e n e s s , w o n d e r e d a s I c l o s e d m y e y e l i d s ,
" W h a t w i l l h e d o w h e n h e sees m e i n m y d e s h a b i l l e ? "
Soon
M o r p h e u s h i d me in u n d r e a m i n g sleep until dusk. I w o k e up -
N o t i n t h e a r m s o f softness b u t u n d e r n e a t h t h e g e n t l e
W e i g h t of a naked youth.
V a i n l y I called o u t , " A l m i g h t y
J o v e , " s t r u g g l e d against his r i g i d w i l l - p o w e r . '
' A n d yielded?'
' Y e s , for h o w c o u l d I s t o p h i m w h e n I b u r n e d a s h e d i d ?
I n w h a t s e e m e d less t h a n a m i n u t e , I h a d b e e n d e f l o w e r e d
W i t h o u t pleasure o r pang. O n c e m o r e , the y o u n g m a n m o u n t e d .
I ) e t e r m i n e d b y e v e r y g o d d e s s i n h i g h h e a v e n t o s h a r e his
S p i l l i n g , I t w i n e d , but pist as I w.is a b o u t to . . . '
'What happened?'

.">
' H e spent.
O w h y should the spurren pleasure of expectant
W o m a n b e snaffled w i t h i n a y a r d o f t h e g r a n d s t a n d ?
W h i l e he was resting, I asked h i m :
" W h a t is your name?"
"Chelos,
T h i r d - y e a r student in Egyptology. Later
I'll s h o w y o u r o l l e d p a p y r i , h i e r o g l y p h i c s ,
T i n t e d lettering, sand-yellow, N i l u s - b r o w n , reed-green,
O u t l i n e d w i t h hawk, h o r n , lotus-bud, sceptre, sun-circles,
Crescent."
H e told m e o f foreign w o n d e r s , the Colossus
G u a r d i n g t h e h a r b o u r o f R h o d e s , his c o d b u l k i e r t h a n a
W e l l - f i l l e d f r e i g h t e r p a s s i n g his s h i n s , u n f l o o d a b l e
T e m p l e s b e y o n d Assuan, rock-treasuries, the M o u n t a i n s
Of the M o o n , Alexandria and the Pharos -
Night-light of shipping.
S o o n in a grotto-spring u n d e r fern-drip.
K n e e - d e e p , w e s p o n g e d o n e a n o t h e r , back a n d side, laughing.
C h e l o s faggoted, tricked t h e brazier from s m o k e to flame,
while I
F o u n d in a cupboard cut of ibex, stewed it with carob
B e a n s , sliced a p p l e , o n i o n , t h y m e - s p r i g . A n d s o w e h a d s u p p e r ,
S h a r i n g a skin of A e t n i a n w i n e until t h e m i d n i g h t
H o u r , t h e n t i p t o e d tipsily b a c k t o o u r m a n t l e d l o v e - b e d .
D r o w s i l y e n t w i n e d , w e m o v e d s l o w l y , softly, w i t h h o l d i n g
O u r s e l v e s i n s w e e t delays u n t i l a t last w e y i e l d e d ,
M i n g l i n g o u r natural flow, feeling it almost linger
I n t o o u r sleep.
Stirred by the melilot daylight, I w o k e up.
C h e l o s lay a s p r a w l a n d I k n e w t h a t h e m u s t b e d r e a m i n g o f m e
F o r h e m u r m u r e d " P y r r h a " . I f o n d l e d his i t h y p h a l l u s ,
u n c a p p e d it,
S a w for t h e f i r s t t i m e t h e k n o b , a p u r p l e - r e d p l u m , y e t f i r m e r .
C o v e r i n g h i m like a m a n , I m o v e d u n t i l h e g r i p p e d m e :
F a s t e r , y e t faster, w e s p e d , d e t e r m i n e d d o w n - t h r u s t r i v a l l i n g
U p - t h r u s t - s u c c u s glissading us - e x q u i s i t e s p a s m
C o n t r a c t i n g , dilating, c h a n g e d into m i n u t e preparatory
Orgasms, a pleasure u n k n o w n to m a n , that culminated
W i t h i n t h e i r n a r r o w i n g circles i n t o t h e g r e a t o r g a s m o s . '

in
 P A T R I C K K A V A N A G H

Born Inniskecn, C o u n t y M o n a g h a n , 1904. Left school early to w o r k as

small fanner and shoemaker. M o v e d in 1939 to D u b l i n , w h e r e he eked
out a living on the fringes of literary journalism. Ran o w n newspaper,
Kavanagh's Weekly, for thirteen issues in 1952. D i e d 1967, the year of
his marriage. T w o s e m i - c o m i c prose w o r k s , The Green Fool (1938)
and Tarry Flynn (1948), give respectively indulgent and unsparing
portraits of the struggles of a poetic y o u n g m a n in an impoverished
rural c o m m u n i t y .

W i t h its subtly h e i g h t e n e d colloquial speech rhythms and direct

apprehension of experience, u n m e d i a t e d by m y t h or literary allusiveness,
Kavanagh's w o r k has i m m e n s e appeal in Ireland. T h e poetry's challenge
to the Literary Revival's idealisation of the peasant tends to be read - a
shade t o o comfortably, perhaps - as a vindication of day-to-day
Irishness. Kavanagh is grittily realistic about the rural scene alike in
his rhapsodic lyrics and in Tlte Great Hunger (1942), his impassioned
complaint against the miseries of small-farm life. 'Father M a t ' ,
derived from an abandoned long p o e m Why Sorrow?, strikes a
balance b e t w e e n characteristic impulses towards praise and protest.
' T h e Twelfth of July' and 'Elegy for J i m Larkin' confront the
petit-bourgeois, Catholic values of the southern state while absorbing
politics into an edgy, visionary subjectivity. Shifting registers w i t h
c o n s u m m a t e skill b e h i n d its ostentatiously ramshackle exterior, ' T h e
I lospital' is perhaps the most remarkable of ten sonnets written in the
wake of an operation for lung cancer in 1954.

TO T H E MAN AFTER T H E HARROW

N o w l e a v e t h e c h e c k - r e i n s slack,
T h e s e e d is flying far t o - d a y -
T h e s e e d like stars against t h e b l a c k
E t e r n i t y of A p r i l clay.

T h i s s e e d is p o t e n t as t h e s e e d
( )t k n o w l e d g e in t h e H e b r e w H o o k ,
 So drive y o u r horses in the creed
Of G o d the Father as a stook.

F o r g e t t h e m e n o n B r a d y ' s hill.
F o r g e t w h a t B r a d y ' s b o y m a y say.
F o r d e s t i n y w i l l n o t fulfil
U n l e s s y o u let t h e h a r r o w p l a y .

Forget the w o r m ' s opinion too

Of hooves and pointed harrow-pins,
F o r y o u are d r i v i n g y o u r h o r s e s t h r o u g h
T h e mist w h e r e Genesis begins.

S T O N Y GREY SOIL

O s t o n y g r e y soil o f M o n a g h a n
T h e laugh from my love you thieved;
Y o u t o o k t h e gay child o f m y passion
A n d gave m e y o u r clod-conceived.

Y o u c l o g g e d t h e feet o f m y b o y h o o d
A n d I believed that my stumble
H a d the poise a n d stride o f A p o l l o
A n d his v o i c e m y t h i c k - t o n g u e d m u m b l e .

Y o u told m e the p l o u g h was immortal!

O green-life-conquering plough!
Y o u r mandril strained, y o u r coulter b l u n t e d
I n t h e s m o o t h lea-field o f m y b r o w .

Y o u sang o n steaming dunghills

A song of cowards' b r o o d ,
Y o u perfumed my clothes w i t h weasel itch,
Y o u fed m e o n s w i n i s h f o o d .

Y o u flung a ditch on my vision

Of beauty, love and truth.
O s t o n y g r e y soil of M o n a g h a n
You burgled my bank ol youth!
 Lost t h e l o n g h o u r s of pleasure
All t h e w o m e n t h a t l o v e y o u n g m e n .
O can I still s t r o k e t h e m o n s t e r ' s b a c k
Or write with unpoisoned pen

His n a m e in these lonely verses

O r m e n t i o n the dark f i e l d s w h e r e
T h e f i r s t g a y flight o f m y lyric
G o t caught in a peasant's prayer.

Mullahinsha, D r u m m e r i l , Black Shanco -

W h e r e v e r I t u r n I see
I n t h e s t o n y g r e y soil o f M o n a g h a n
D e a d l o v e s t h a t w e r e b o r n for m e .

from T H E GREAT H U N G E R

("lay is t h e w o r d a n d clay is t h e flesh

W h e r e the p o t a t o - g a t h e r e r s like m e c h a n i s e d scarecrows m o v e
A l o n g t h e side-fall o f t h e hill - M a g u i r e a n d his m e n .
If we w a t c h t h e m an h o u r is there a n y t h i n g we can p r o v e
O f life a s i t i s b r o k e n - b a c k e d o v e r t h e B o o k
O f D e a t h ? H e r e c r o w s g a b b l e o v e r w o r m s a n d frogs
A n d t h e gulls l i k e o l d n e w s p a p e r s are b l o w n c l e a r o f t h e
hedges, luckily.
I s t h e r e s o m e l i g h t o f i m a g i n a t i o n i n t h e s e w e t clods?
C )r w h y do we stand h e r e shivering?
W h i c h o f these m e n
L o v e d the light a n d t h e q u e e n
Too l o n g virgin? Yesterday was s u m m e r . W h o was i t p r o m i s e d
marriage to himself
B e f o r e a p p l e s w e r e h u n g f r o m t h e c e i l i n g s for H a l l o w e ' e n ?
W e will w a i t a n d w a t c h t h e t r a g e d y t o t h e last c u r t a i n ,
Till the last soul passively like a b a g of w e t clay
Rolls d o w n t h e side o f t h e hill, d i v e r t e d b y t h e a n g l e s
W h c i e t h e p l o u g h missed o r a s p a d e stands, s t r a i t e n i n g the w a y .
A d o g lying on a t o r n j a c k e t u n d e r a h e e l e d - u p cart,
A horse nosing along the posied headland, trailing
A rusty p l o u g h . T h r e e heads h a n g i n g b e t w e e n w i d e - a p a r t
L e g s . O c t o b e r p l a y i n g a s y m p h o n y o n a slack w i r e p a l i n g .
M a g u i r e w a t c h e s t h e drills f l a t t e n e d o u t
A n d t h e flints t h a t lit a c a n d l e for h i m o n a J u n e altar
F l a m e l e s s . T h e drills s l i p p e d b y a n d t h e d a y s s l i p p e d b y
A n d h e t r e m b l e d his h e a d a w a y a n d r a n free f r o m t h e w o r l d ' s
halter,
A n d t h o u g h t himself wiser than any m a n in the townland
W h e n h e laughed over pints o f porter
O f h o w h e c a m e free f r o m e v e r y n e t s p r e a d
I n t h e gaps o f e x p e r i e n c e . H e s h o o k a k n o w i n g h e a d
A n d p r e t e n d e d t o his s o u l
T h a t c h i l d r e n are t e d i o u s i n h u r r y i n g f i e l d s o f A p r i l
W h e r e m e n are s p a n g i n g across w i d e f u r r o w s .
L o s t in t h e p a s s i o n t h a t n e v e r n e e d s a w i f e -
T h e pricks that pricked w e r e the p o i n t e d pins of harrows.
C h i l d r e n scream so loud that the crows could bring
T h e seed o f a n acre a w a y w i t h c r o w - r u d e jeers.
P a t r i c k M a g u i r e , h e c a l l e d his d o g a n d h e f l u n g a s t o n e i n t h e air
A n d h a l l o o e d t h e birds a w a y that w e r e t h e birds o f t h e years.

T u r n o v e r t h e w e e d y c l o d s a n d tease o u t t h e t a n g l e d s k e i n s .
W h a t i s h e l o o k i n g for t h e r e ?
He thinks it is a potato, but we k n o w better
T h a n his m u d - g l o v e d f i n g e r s p r o b e i n t h i s i n s e n s i t i v e h a i r .

' M o v e forward the basket a n d balance it steady

I n this h o l l o w . P u l l d o w n t h e shafts o f t h a t c a r t , J o e ,
A n d s t r a d d l e t h e h o r s e , ' M a g u i r e calls.
' T h e w i n d ' s o v e r B r a n n a g a n ' s , n o w that m e a n s rain.
G r a i p u p s o m e w i t h e r e d stalks a n d see t h a t n o p o t a t o falls
O v e r t h e t a i l - b o a r d g o i n g d o w n t h e r u c k e t y pass -
A n d that's a j o b w e ' l l h a v e t o d o i n D e c e m b e r .
G r a v e l i t a n d b u i l d a k e r b o n t h e b o g - s i d e . I s t h a t C a s s i d y ' s ass
O u t in my clover? C u r s e o' G o d -
W h e r e is that dog?
N e v e r w h e r e h e ' s w a n t e d . ' M a g u i r e g r u n t s a n d spits
T h r o u g h a c l a y - w a t t l e d m o u s t a c h e a n d stares a b o u t h i m from t h e
height.
His d r e a m changes like t h e c l o u d - s w u n g w i n d
A n d h e i s n o t s o s u r e n o w i f his m o t h e r w a s r i g h t
W h e n s h e p r a i s e d t h e m a n w h o m a d e a field his b r i d e .

W a t c h h i m , w a t c h h i m , t h a t m a n o n a hill w h o s e spirit
I s a w e t sack f l a p p i n g a b o u t t h e k n e e s o f t i m e .
H e lives t h a t his little fields m a y stay fertile w h e n his o w n b o d y
Is spread in the b o t t o m of a ditch u n d e r t w o coulters crossed in
Christ's N a m e .

H e w a s s u s p i c i o u s i n his y o u t h a s a rat n e a r s t r a n g e b r e a d ,
W h e n girls l a u g h e d ; w h e n t h e y s c r e a m e d h e k n e w t h a t m e a n t
T h e c r y o f fillies i n s e a s o n . H e c o u l d n o t w a l k
T h e easy r o a d t o d e s t i n y . H e d r e a m t
T h e innocence of y o u n g brambles to h o o k e d treachery.
O t h e grip, O t h e grip of irregular fields! No m a n escapes.
I t c o u l d n o t b e t h a t b a c k o f t h e hills l o v e w a s free
A n d ditches straight.
N o m o n s t e r h a n d lifted u p c h i l d r e n a n d p u t d o w n a p e s
As here.
'O G o d if I had b e e n wiser!'
T h a t w a s his sigh l i k e t h e b r o w n b r e e z e i n t h e thistles.
H e l o o k s t o w a r d s his h o u s e a n d h a g g a r d . ' O G o d i f I h a d b e e n
wiser!'
B u t n o w a c r u m p l e d leaf f r o m t h e w h i t e t h o r n b u s h e s
D a r t s like a f r i g h t e n e d r o b i n , a n d t h e f e n c e
S h o w s t h e g r e e n o f after-grass t h r o u g h a little w i n d o w ,
A n d h e k n o w s t h a t his o w n h e a r t i s c a l l i n g his m o t h e r a liar
G o d ' s t r u t h i s life - e v e n t h e g r o t e s q u e s h a p e s o f his f o u l e s t f i r e .

T h e h o r s e lifts its h e a d a n d c r a n e s
Through the whins and stones
T o lip late p a s s i o n i n t h e c r a w l i n g c l o v e r .
I n t h e g a p t h e r e ' s a b u s h w e i g h t e d w i t h b o u l d e r s like m o r a l i t y ,
T h e fools o f life b l e e d i f t h e y c l i m b o v e r .

T h e w i n d leans f r o m B r a d y ' s , a n d t h e c o l t s f o o t l e a v e s are h o l e d

w i t h rust,
Rain tills t h e c a r t - t r a c k s a n d t h e s o l e - p l a t e g r o o v e s ;
A y e l l o w s u n reflects in D o n a g h m o y n e
T h e p o i g n a n t light i n p u d d l e s s h a p e d b y h o o v e s
C o m e w i t h m e , I m a g i n a t i o n , i n t o this i r o n h o u s e
A n d w e will w a t c h from the d o o r w a y the years r u n back,
A n d w e w i l l k n o w w h a t a p e a s a n t ' s left h a n d w r o t e o n t h e p a g e
B e easy, O c t o b e r . N o c a c k l e h e n , h o r s e n e i g h , t r e e s o u g h , d u c k
quack.

from III

P o o r P a d d y M a g u i r e , a f o u r t e e n - h o u r day
H e w o r k e d for y e a r s . I t w a s h e t h a t lit t h e f i r e
A n d boiled the kettle and gave the cows their hay.
H i s m o t h e r tall h a r d as a P r o t e s t a n t spire
C a m e d o w n t h e stairs b a r e f o o t a t t h e k e t t l e - c a l l
A n d t a l k e d t o h e r s o n s h a r p l y : ' D i d y o u let
T h e hens out, you?' She had a v e n o m o u s drawl
A n d a w i z e n e d face l i k e m o t h - e a t e n l e a t h e r e t t e .
T w o b l a c k cats p e e p e d b e t w e e n t h e b a n i s t e r s
A n d gloated over the bacon-fizzling pan.
O u t s i d e t h e w i n d o w s h o w e d tin canisters.
T h e s n i p e o f D a w n fell l i k e a w h i r r i n g s t o n e
A n d Patrick on a headland stood alone.

T h e pull is on t h e traces, it is M a r c h
A n d a cold black w i n d is b l o w i n g from D u n d a l k .
T h e t w i s t i n g s o d rolls o v e r o n h e r b a c k -
T h e v i r g i n s c r e a m s b e f o r e t h e irresistible s o c k .
N o w o r r y o n M a g u i r e ' s m i n d this d a y
E x c e p t t h a t h e f o r g o t t o b r i n g his m a t c h e s .
' H o p back there Polly, h o y back, w o a , w a e ' ,
F r o m e v e r y s e c o n d hill a n e i g h b o u r w a t c h e s
W i t h all t h e s h a r p e n e d i n t e r e s t o f r i v a l r y .
Y e t s o m e t i m e s w h e n the sun c o m e s t h r o u g h a gap
These m e n k n o w G o d the Father in a tree:
T h e H o l y Spirit is t h e rising sap,
A n d Christ will b e t h e g r e e n leaves that will c o m e
At Easter from t h e sealed a n d g u a r d e d t o m b . . .

XIV

W e m a y c o m e o u t i n t o t h e O c t o b e r reality, I m a g i n a t i o n ,
T h e s l e e t y w i n d n o l o n g e r slants t o t h e b l a c k hill w h e r e M a g u i n
A n d Ins m e n are n o w c o l l e c t i n g t h e s c a t t e r e d h a r n e s s a n d basket
T h e d o g s i t t i n g o n a w i s p o f d r y stalks
Watches t h e m through the shadows.
' B a c k i n , b a c k i n . ' O n e talks t o t h e h o r s e a s t o a b r o t h e r .
M a g u i r e h i m s e l f is p a t t i n g a p o t a t o - p i t against t h e w e a t h e r -
An old m a n fondling a n e w - p i l e d grave:
'Joe, I h o p e y o u didn't forget to hide the spade,
F o r t h e r e ' s r o g u e s i n t h e t o w n l a n d . H i d e i t flat i n a f u r r o w .
I t h i n k we o u g h t to be finished by t o - m o r r o w . '
T h e i r voices t h r o u g h t h e darkness s o u n d like voices from a cave,
A d u l l t h u d d i n g far a w a y , futile, f e e b l e , far a w a y ,
First c o u s i n s t o t h e g h o s t s o f t h e t o w n l a n d .

A l i g h t stands i n a w i n d o w . M a r y A n n e
H a s t h e t a b l e set a n d t h e t e a - p o t w a i t i n g i n t h e ashes.
S h e g o e s t o t h e d o o r a n d listens a n d t h e n s h e calls
F r o m the top of the haggard-wall:
'What's keeping you
A n d t h e c o w s t o b e m i l k e d a n d all t h e o t h e r w o r k t h e r e ' s t o d o ? '
'All right, all right,
W e ' l l n o t stay h e r e all n i g h t . '

Applause, applause,
T h e c u r t a i n falls.
Applause, applause
F r o m t h e h o m i n g carts a n d t h e t r e e s
A n d t h e b a w l i n g c o w s a t t h e gates.
F r o m the screeching water-hens
A n d the mill-race h e a v y w i t h the L a m m a s floods c u r v i n g o v e r
the weir.
A t r a i n a t t h e s t a t i o n b l o w i n g off s t e a m
A n d the hysterical laughter of the defeated e v e r y w h e r e .
N i g h t , a n d t h e futile cards a r e shuffled a g a i n .
M a g u i r e s p r e a d s his legs o v e r t h e i m p o t e n t c i n d e r s t h a t w a k e n o
manhood now
A n d h e h a r d l y l o o k s t o see w h i c h c a r d i s t r u m p .
I lis sister t i g h t e n s h e r legs a n d h e r lips a n d frizzles u p
L i k e t h e w i c k o f a n oil-less l a m p .
T h e c u r t a i n falls -
Applause, applause.
M a g u i r e i s n o t afraid o f d e a t h , t h e C h u r c h w i l l l i g h t h i m a c a n d l e
T o see his w a y t h r o u g h t h e v a u l t s a n d h e ' l l u n d e r s t a n d t h e
Q u a l i t y o f t h e clay t h a t d r i b b l e s o v e r his coffin.
H e ' l l k n o w t h e n a m e s o f t h e r o o t s t h a t c l i m b d o w n t o t i c k l e his
feet.
A n d h e w i l l feel n o different t h a n w h e n h e w a l k e d t h r o u g h
Donaghmoyne.

If he s t r e t c h e s o u t a h a n d - a w e t c l o d ,
If he o p e n s his nostrils - a d u n g y s m e l l ;
If he o p e n s his eyes o n c e in a m i l l i o n y e a r s -
T h r o u g h a c r a c k i n t h e c r u s t o f t h e e a r t h h e m a y s e e a face
nodding in
O r a w o m a n ' s legs. S h u t t h e m a g a i n for t h a t s i g h t i s sin.

H e w i l l h a r d l y r e m e m b e r t h a t life h a p p e n e d t o h i m -
S o m e t h i n g was brighter a m o m e n t . S o m e b o d y sang in the
distance.
A p r o c e s s i o n passed d o w n a m e s m e r i s e d s t r e e t .
H e r e m e m b e r s n a m e s like Easter a n d C h r i s t m a s
B y t h e c o l o u r his f i e l d s w e r e .
M a y b e he will be b o r n again, a bird of an angel's c o n c e i t
T o s i n g t h e g o s p e l o f life
T o a m u s i c a s flightily t a n g e n t
As a t u n e on an o b o e .
A n d t h e serious l o o k o f the f i e l d s will h a v e c h a n g e d t o t h e leer
of a h o b o
S w a g g e r i n g celestially h o m e t o his t h r e e w i s h e s g r a n t e d .
Will that be? will that be?
Or is the earth right that laughs h a w - h a w
A n d does not believe
In an unearthly law.
T h e e a r t h t h a t says:
Patrick M a g u i r e , the old peasant, can neither be d a m n e d n o r
glorified:
T h e g r a v e y a r d i n w h i c h h e w i l l lie will b e j u s t a d e e p - d r i l l e d
potato-field
W h e r e t h e s e e d gets n o c h a n c e t o c o m e t h r o u g h
T o t h e fun o f t h e s u n .
T h e t o n g u e i n his m o u t h i s t h e r o o t o f a y e w .
S i l e n c e , s i l e n c e . The story is d o n e .

W
 H e s t a n d s i n t h e d o o r w a y o f his h o u s e
A ragged sculpture of the w i n d ,
O c t o b e r creaks the r o t t e d mattress,
T h e b e d p o s t s fall. N o h o p e . N o lust.
T h e h u n g r y fiend
S c r e a m s t h e a p o c a l y p s e o f clay
I n e v e r y c o r n e r o f this l a n d .

T H E TWELFTH OF JULY

T h e Twelfth of July, the voice of Ulster speaking,

Tart as w e e k - o l d buttermilk from a c h u r n ,
S u r p r i s i n g t h e t i r e d palates o f t h e s o u t h .
I said t o myself: F r o m t h e m w e h a v e m u c h t o l e a r n
H a r d business-talk, no mediaeval babble,
B u t the s u d d e n knife o f reality r u n n i n g t o the heart
W i t h e x p e r i e n c e . T h e p a g e a n t r y o f Scarva
R e c a l l e d t h e G r e e k i d e a o f d r a m a t i c art.
T h e horse-dealers from the M o y o r Banbridge,
T h e Biblical f a r m e r s f r o m R i c h h i l l o r C o l e r a i n e .
All t h a t w a s s h a r p , p r e c i s e a n d p u n g e n t f l a v o u r e d -
A h ! an U l s t e r i m a g i n e d ! F o r h e r e f r o m t h e train
At A m i e n s Street c o m e gin-and-bitter blondes,
T h e slot m a c h i n e s t h a t g i v e u s all t h e ' a n s w e r s ' ,
A n d y o u n g m e n o u t o f Ulster w h o will dare
To drive a w e d g e in Dublin's L o u n g e Bar panzers.

TARRY FLYNN

On an apple-ripe September m o r n i n g
T h r o u g h the mist-chill fields I w e n t
W i t h a pitch-fork on my shoulder
Less for use t h a n for d e v i l m e n t .

I h e t h r e s h i n g mill w a s set u p , I k n e w ,
In C a s s i d y ' s h a g g a r d last n i g h t ,
 A n d we o w e d t h e m a day at the threshing
S i n c e last y e a r . O it w a s d e l i g h t .

T o b e p a y i n g bills o f l a u g h t e r
A n d chaffy gossip i n k i n d
W i t h w o r k t h r o w n i n t o ballast
T h e fantasy-soaring m i n d .

As I crossed the w o o d e n bridge I w o n d e r e d

As I l o o k e d into the drain
If ever a s u m m e r m o r n i n g should find me
S h o v e l l i n g u p eels a g a i n .

A n d I t h o u g h t of the wasps' nest in the b a n k

A n d h o w I got chased o n e day
Leaving the drag and the scraw-knife b e h i n d ,
H o w I c o v e r e d m y face w i t h h a y .

T h e w e t leaves o f t h e c o c k s f o o t
P o l i s h e d my b o o t s as I
W e n t r o u n d b y the glistening bog-holes
Lost in u n t h i n k i n g j o y .

I'll b e c a r r y i n g b a g s t o - d a y , I m u s e d ,
T h e best j o b a t t h e mill
W i t h p l e n t y o f t i m e t o talk o f o u r l o v e s
A s w e w a i t for t h e bags t o f i l l .

M a y b e M a r y m i g h t call r o u n d . . .
A n d t h e n I c a m e to the haggard gate,
A n d I k n e w as I e n t e r e d that I h a d c o m e
T h r o u g h fields t h a t w e r e p a r t o f n o e a r t h l y e s t a t e .

A CHRISTMAS C H I L D H O O D

O n e side o f t h e p o t a t o - p i t s w a s w h i t e w i t h frost -
H o w wonderful that was, h o w wonderful!

Mi
A n d w h e n w e p u t o u r ears t o t h e p a l i n g - p o s t
T h e music that came out was magical.

T h e light b e t w e e n the r i c k s o f hay and straw

W a s a hole in H e a v e n ' s gable. An apple tree
W i t h its D e c e m b e r - g l i n t i n g fruit w e s a w -
0 you, Eve, w e r e the w o r l d that t e m p t e d m e .

T o eat t h e k n o w l e d g e t h a t g r e w i n clay
A n d d e a t h t h e g e r m w i t h i n it! N o w a n d t h e n
1 c a n r e m e m b e r s o m e t h i n g o f t h e gay
G a r d e n that was childhood's. Again

T h e tracks of cattle to a d r i n k i n g - p l a c e ,
A g r e e n s t o n e l y i n g s i d e w a y s in a d i t c h
O r a n y c o m m o n s i g h t t h e t r a n s f i g u r e d face
Of a beauty that the w o r l d did not touch.

II

M y father played t h e m e l o d e o n
Outside at o u r gate;
T h e r e w e r e stars i n t h e m o r n i n g east
A n d t h e y d a n c e d t o his m u s i c .

A c r o s s t h e w i l d b o g s his m e l o d e o n called
T o L e n n o n s a n d Callans.
As I pulled on my trousers in a h u r r y
I k n e w s o m e strange t h i n g h a d h a p p e n e d .

Outside in the cow-house my mother

M a d e the music of milking;
T h e l i g h t o f h e r s t a b l e - l a m p w a s a star
A n d t h e frost o f B e t h l e h e m m a d e i t t w i n k l e .

A w a t e r - h e n screeched in the b o g ,
M a s s - g o i n g feet
C r u n c h e d the wafer-ice on the pot-holes,
S o m e b o d y wistfully t w i s t e d t h e b e l l o w s w h e e l .

II
 M y child p o e t p i c k e d o u t t h e letters
On the grey stone,
I n silver t h e w o n d e r o f a C h r i s t m a s t o w n l a n d ,
T h e w i n k i n g g l i t t e r o f a frosty d a w n .

Cassiopeia was over

C a s s i d y ' s h a n g i n g hill,
I l o o k e d a n d t h r e e w h i n b u s h e s r o d e across
T h e horizon - the T h r e e Wise Kings.

A n o l d m a n p a s s i n g said:
' C a n ' t he m a k e it talk' -
T h e m e l o d e o n . I hid in the d o o r w a y
A n d tightened the belt of my box-pleated coat.

I n i c k e d six n i c k s o n t h e d o o r - p o s t
W i t h my penknife's big blade -
T h e r e w a s a little o n e for c u t t i n g t o b a c c o .
A n d I w a s six C h r i s t m a s e s o f a g e .

M y father played t h e m e l o d e o n ,
My m o t h e r milked the cows,
A n d I had a prayer like a w h i t e rose p i n n e d
On the Virgin Mary's blouse.

FATHER MAT

In a m e a d o w
Beside the chapel t h r e e boys w e r e playing football.
At the forge d o o r an old m a n was leaning
Viewing a h u n t e r - h o e . A m a n could hear
I f h e l i s t e n e d t o t h e b r e e z e t h e fall o f w i n g s -
H o w wistfully t h e s i n - b i r d s c o m e h o m e !

I t w a s C o n f e s s i o n S a t u r d a y , t h e first
Saturday in May; the M a y D e v o t i o n s
W e r e s p r e a d like leaves t o q u i e t e n

i '
T h e excited armies of conscience.
T h e k n i f e o f p e n a n c e fell s o like a b l a d e
O f grass t h a t n o o n e w a s afraid.

Father M a t came slowly walking, stopping to

Stare t h r o u g h gaps a t a n c i e n t I r e l a n d s w e e p i n g
I n again w i t h all its u n b a p t i z e d b e a u t y :
T h e calm evening,
T h e w h i t e t h o r n blossoms,
T h e smell f r o m ditches that w e r e n o t Christian.
T h e dancer that dances in the hearts of m e n cried:
L o o k ! I h a v e s h o w n this t o y o u b e f o r e -
T h e rags o f l i v i n g s u r p r i s e d
T h e j o y i n things y o u c a n n o t forget.

H i s h e a v y h a t w a s s q u a r e u p o n his h e a d ,
Like a Christian Brother's;
H i s eyes w e r e a n o l d m a n ' s w a t e r y e y e s ,

O u t o f his flat n o s e g r e w s p i k y hairs.

He was a part of the place,
N a t u r a l as a r o u n d s t o n e in a grass field;
H e c o u l d w a l k t h r o u g h a c a t t l e fair
A n d t h e p e o p l e w o u l d o n l y n o t i c e his o d d spirit t h e r e .

H i s c u r a t e p a s s e d on a b i c y c l e -
He had the h a u g h t y intellectual l o o k
O f the m a n w h o n e v e r reads i n b r o o k o r b o o k ;
A m a n designed
To wear a mitre,
T o sit o n c o m m i t t e e s -
F o r will g r o w s s t r o n g e s t i n t h e e m p t i e s t m i n d .

T h e o l d p r i e s t s a w h i m pass
And, seeing, saw
I limsell a m e d i a e v a l g h o s t .
Ahead of him w e n t P o w e r ,
( ) n e w h o w a s n o t afraid w h e n t h e s u n o p e n e d a f l o w e r .
W h o w a s never a s t o n i s h e d
Al .1 sti< K i . l i n e d d o w n a s t r e a m
< )i .ii tin u n d y i n g difference in t h e < ornei <>f .1 field.

11
 II

T h e Holy Ghost descends

A t r a n d o m like t h e m u s e
O n wise m a n a n d fool,
A n d w h y should poet in the twilight choose?

W i t h i n the d i m chapel was the grey

M u m b l e of prayer
To the Q u e e n of May -
T h e V i r g i n M a r y w i t h t h e s c h o o l g i r l air.

T w o g u t t e r i n g c a n d l e s o n a brass s h r i n e
Raised u p o n the wall
M o n s t e r s of despair
T o terrify d e e p i n t o t h e s o u l .

T h r o u g h t h e o p e n d o o r t h e h u m o f rosaries
C a m e out and blended with the h o m i n g bees.
T h e trees
H e a r d n o t h i n g stranger t h a n t h e rain o r t h e w i n d
Or the birds -
B u t deep in their roots they k n e w a seed had sinne

In t h e g r a v e y a r d a g o a t w a s n i b b l i n g at a y e w ,
T h e cobbler's chickens with anxious looks
W e r e straggling h o m e t h r o u g h nettles, o v e r graves
A y o u n g girl d o w n a hill w a s d r i v i n g c o w s
T o a c o r n e r a t t h e g a b l e - e n d o f a roofless h o u s e .

C o w s w e r e m i l k e d earlier,
T h e supper hurried,
H e n s shut in,
Horses unyoked,
A n d three m e n shaving before the same mirror.

Ill

T h e t r i p o f i r o n tips o n tile
H e s i t a t e d u p t h e m i d d l e aisle,
H e a d s t h a t w e r e b o w e d g l a n c e d u p t o see
W h o c o u l d t h i s last a r r i v a l b e .
M u r m u r of w o m e n ' s voices from the p o r c h ,
M e m o r i e s of relations in t h e graveyard.
O n the stem
Of m e m o r y imaginations blossom.

In t h e d i m
C o r n e r s i n t h e side seats faces g a t h e r ,
Lit u p n o w a n d t h e n b y a g u t t e r i n g c a n d l e
A n d the ghost of day at the w i n d o w .
A s e c r e t l o v e r is s a y i n g
T h r e e Hail Marys that she w h o k n o w s
T h e ways o f w o m e n will bring
C a t h l e e n O ' H a r a (he n a m e s her) h o m e t o h i m .
I r o n i c fate! C a t h l e e n h e r s e l f i s s a y i n g
T h r e e Hail Marys t o her w h o k n o w s
T h e ways o f m e n t o bring
S o m e b o d y else h o m e t o h e r -
'O may he love m e . '
W h a t is the Virgin M a r y n o w to do?

IV

F r o m a confessional
T h e voice of Father Mat's absolving
Rises a n d falls l i k e a b r i a r in t h e b r e e z e .
A s t h e sins p o u r i n t h e o l d p r i e s t i s t h i n k i n g
H i s fields o f fresh grass, his h o r s e s , his c o w s ,
H i s e a r t h i n t o t h e fires o f P u r g a t o r y .
It c o o l s his m i n d .
' T h e y confess t o t h e fields,' h e m u s e d ,
' T h e y confess t o t h e fields a n d t h e air a n d t h e s k y ' ,
A n d f o r g i v e n e s s w a s t h e soft grass o f his m e a d o w b y t h e r i v e r
I lis t h o u g h t s w e r e w a l k i n g t h r o u g h i t n o w .

I lis h u m a n lips t a l k e d o n :
' M y son,
O n l y t h e p o o r i n spirit shall w e a r t h e c r o w n ;
Those down
( .111 c r e e p in t h e l o w d o o r
( MI to I l e a v e n ' s f l o o r . '

•r.
T h e T e m p t e r had a n o t h e r answer ready:
' A h lad, u p o n t h e r o a d o f life
'Tis best to dance with C h a n c e ' s wife
A n d let t h e rains t h a t c o m e i n t i m e
Erase t h e footprints of t h e c r i m e . '

T h e dancer that dances in the hearts of m e n

T e m p t e d h i m again:
' L o o k ! I h a v e s h o w n y o u this b e f o r e ;
F r o m this m o u n t a i n - t o p I h a v e t e m p t e d C h r i s t
W i t h w h a t y o u see n o w
O f b e a u t y - all t h a t ' s m u s i c , p o e t r y , art
In things y o u can t o u c h every day.
I broke away
A n d r u l e all d o m i n i o n s t h a t are r a r e ;
I t o o k w i t h m e all t h e a n s w e r s t o e v e r y p r a y e r
T h a t y o u n g m e n a n d girls p r a y for: l o v e , h a p p i n e s s , r i c h e s - '
O Tempter! O Tempter!

As Father Mat walked h o m e

V e n u s w a s i n t h e w e s t e r n sky
A n d there w e r e voices in the hedges:
' G o d the Gay is not the Wise.'

' T a k e y o u r choice, take y o u r choice,'

Called the breeze through the bridge's eye.
' T h e domestic Virgin and H e r Child
O r V e n u s w i t h h e r ecstasy.'

ELEGY FOR JIM LARKIN

died February Í947

N o t w i t h p u b l i c w o r d s c a n his g r e a t n e s s
B e t o l d t o c h i l d r e n , for h e w a s m o r e
T h a n labour agitator, m o b orator
T h e flashing fiery s w o r d m e r e l y w a s w i t n e s s
T o t h e sun u s i n g . C r i e d I a r k i n : L o o k !

46
T h e f i e l d s are p r o d u c i n g for y o u a n d t h e t r e e s ;
A n d b e y o n d are n o t t h e s e r f s t o c k l a n d , b u t seas
Rolling excitement in God's Poetry Book.
W h e n t h e full m o o n ' s i n t h e r i v e r t h e g h o s t o f b r e a d
M u s t n o t b e i n all y o u r w e a r y t r u d g i n g s h o m e .
T h e masts o f o n c e b l a c k galleys will b e c o m e
Fir forests u n d e r t h e N o r t h ' s g l i t t e r i n g P l o u g h ,
A n d the rusty gantries, t h e h e r o i c ahead
W i t h m a n the magician w h o m the gods e n d o w .

It was thus I heard J i m Larkin shout above

T h e c r o w d w h o w o u l d h a v e h i m t u r n aside
F r o m t h e d a y ' s s h o c k i n g reality. T h e i r m o r p h i n e p r i d e
H i d i n t h e fogs o f u n h o p e a n d w o u l d n o t m o v e -
T h e s m o k e and the d r u g o f the n e w s p a p e r story;
A n d w i t h m o u t h s o p e n t h e y w e r e glad t o stare
N o t at a b l a c k b i r d , b u t a m i l l i o n a i r e
W h o s e t w o - y e a r - o l d s r a n off w i t h all t h e i r w o r r y -
T h o u g h b a t o n e d by p o l i c e m e n into Dublin's garbage.
J i m Larkin o p e n e d a w i n d o w wide
A n d wings flew o u t a n d offered to slow rising things
A lift o n t o h i g h altars w i t h p r o u d c a r r i a g e .
A n d t h e y s w a y e d a b o v e t h e city i n y o u n g k n o w l e d g e
A n d t h e y ate t h e l o a f t h a t n o u r i s h e s g r e a t k i n g s .

EPIC

I h a v e lived in i m p o r t a n t places, times

W h e n great events w e r e decided, w h o o w n e d
T h a t half a r o o d of r o c k , a n o - m a n ' s land
S u r r o u n d e d b y o u r p i t c h f o r k - a r m e d claims.
I heard the Dufiys shouting ' D a m n y o u r soul'
A n d old M c C a b e stripped to the waist, seen
Step the plot defying b l u e cast-steel -
' H e r e is the march along these iron stones'.
T h a t was t h e y e a r o f t h e M u n i c h b o t h e r . W h i c h
Was m o r e important? I inclined
T o lost- m y faith iii Ballyrush a n d G o r t i n

i '
 Till H o m e r ' s ghost c a m e w h i s p e r i n g t o m y m i n d
H e said: I m a d e t h e Iliad f r o m s u c h
A local r o w . G o d s m a k e t h e i r o w n i m p o r t a n c e .

INNOCENCE

T h e y l a u g h e d at o n e I l o v e d -
T h e t r i a n g u l a r hill t h a t h u n g
U n d e r t h e B i g F o r t h . T h e y said
T h a t I was b o u n d e d by the w h i t e t h o r n hedges
O f t h e little f a r m a n d d i d n o t k n o w t h e w o r l d .
B u t I k n e w t h a t l o v e ' s d o o r w a y t o life
Is the same d o o r w a y everywhere.

A s h a m e d of w h a t I loved
I flung h e r from me and called h e r a ditch
A l t h o u g h she was smiling at me w i t h violets.

B u t n o w I am back in her briary arms

T h e d e w o f a n I n d i a n S u m m e r m o r n i n g lies
On bleached potato-stalks -
W h a t age am I?

I d o n o t k n o w w h a t age I a m ,
I am no m o r t a l age;
I k n o w nothing of w o m e n ,
N o t h i n g o f cities,
I c a n n o t die
Unless I walk outside these w h i t e t h o r n hedges.

KERR'S A S S

W e b o r r o w e d t h e l o a n o f K e r r ' s b i g ass
To go to Dundalk with butter,
Brought h i m h o m e the evening before the market
An exile that night in M u c k e r .

IH
 W e h e e l e d u p t h e cart b e f o r e t h e d o o r ,
We t o o k t h e harness inside -
T h e straw-stuffed straddle, the b r o k e n b r e e c h i n g
W i t h bits o f b u l l - w i r e t i e d ;

T h e winkers that had n o c h o k e - b a n d ,

T h e collar a n d t h e r e i n s . . .
In Ealing Broadway, L o n d o n T o w n
I n a m e t h e i r several n a m e s

U n t i l a w o r l d c o m e s to life -
M o r n i n g , t h e silent b o g ,
And the G o d of imagination waking
In a M u c k e r fog.

T H E HOSPITAL

A y e a r a g o I fell in l o v e w i t h t h e f u n c t i o n a l w a r d
( ) f a c h e s t h o s p i t a l : s q u a r e c u b i c l e s in a r o w
Plain c o n c r e t e , w a s h basins - a n art l o v e r ' s w o e ,
N o t c o u n t i n g h o w the fellow in the next b e d snored.
But n o t h i n g w h a t e v e r is by love debarred,
T h e c o m m o n and banal h e r heat can k n o w .
T h e corrider led to a stairway and b e l o w
W.is t h e i n e x h a u s t i b l e a d v e n t u r e o f a g r a v e l l e d y a r d .

This is w h a t love does to things: the Rialto Bridge,

1 lit- m a i n g a t e t h a t w a s b e n t by a h e a v y l o r r y ,
I he scat at t h e b a c k of a s h e d t h a t w a s a s u n t r a p .
N a m i n g t h e s e t h i n g s i s t h e l o v e - a c t a n d its p l e d g e ;
I HI we must record love's mystery w i t h o u t claptrap,
Snatch o u t of time the passionate transitory.

4V
 P A D R A I C F A L L O N

Born Athenry, C o u n t y Galway, 1905. Educated at the Cistercian

boarding school in Roscrea, C o u n t y Tipperary. W o r k e d as a customs
official in Cavan, W e x f o r d and Dublin. A prolific radio dramatist,
he retired to Cornwall, 1967, then to Kinsale, C o u n t y C o r k , 1971.
D i e d 1974.

If a taste for the exotic and a t e n d e n c y to o v e r w r i t e spoils some of

Fallon's p o e m s , at his best he is capable of meditative stamina and
pictorial vividness. 'Yeats at A t h e n r y Perhaps' is the sturdiest of a series
of troubled explorations of the relevance of the Literary Revival
and its O l y m p i a n leader to the ordinary life of Ireland; like ' G u r t e e n ' ,
it builds its effects on a colloquial naturalism. All but the o p e n i n g p o e m
in the selection c o m e from the last decade and a half of Fallon's career.

A FLASK OF B R A N D Y

Y o u , said t h e L i o n w o m a n ,
Pliz, this e r r a n d , a s n i p e o f b r a n d y
F r o m t h e first s h o p . H e r e ' s m o n e y ;
A n d for y o u t h i s p e n n y .

A n d on m y w a y I saw:
I t e m , a c l o w n w h o w a l t z e d o n stilts;
A bear saluting w i t h a paw;
T w o pairs o f d a n c i n g d o g s i n kilts;
E i g h t m i d g e t p o n i e s in a single file,
A very piccolo of ponies;
T h e n t h e p r i n c e s s far off i n h e r s m i l e ;
A n d t h e s e v e n b e a u t i f u l d i s t a n t ladies:
And then -

F a c i n g after t h e b i g b a n d w a g o n , h e
T h e b o y in spangles, lonely and p r o f o u n d :
B e h i n d h i m the Ringmaster, a redfaced m a n .

50
 F o l l o w e d by silence heavy as a w o u n d ,
And empty.

Q u i c k l y a s t w o feet c a n d i d I c o m e b a c k
To the L i o n w o m a n with her cognac.

Y o u , said t h e L i o n w o m a n ;
Pliz t o t h e w i n d o w , said f o r e i g n g u t t e r a l s i n
T h e cave of the caravan.
I waited, errand done.

A n d waiting o n o n e foot saw:

Item: a twitching coloured chintz
M o v e d by a l e m o n t a l o n e d claw:
A n d after a w o m a n w i t h h e r face i n p a i n t s ,
A t h r o a t t h i c k e n e d i n its r o u n d o f t a n
O n s h o u l d e r s sick a n d w h i t e w i t h n a t u r e ;
B e h i n d was a pair of b l o o m e r s on a line,
B l u e ; a t a b l e w i t h a tin p l a t t e r :
M o r e else:

A b l a c k e l e c t r i c cat, a s t o v e , a p o t
Purring, and a wild Red Indian blanket
C r o u c h i n g sidewise on a b u n k ;
A n d s o m e e x c i t i n g smell t h a t s t u n k
T i l l t h e L i o n w o m a n rising b l o t t e d o u t
All b u t a b r e a s t as h e a v y as a sigh
T h a t stared at me from o n e bruised eye.

KILTARTAN LEGEND

P e n e l o p e pulls h o m e
R o g u e - l o r d , artist, w o r l d w a n d e r e r ,
S i m p l y by s i t t i n g in a h o u s e ,
Its s t u r d y g e n i u s ;
( ) | .ill sirens t h e m o s t d a n g e r o u s .

She'll MI them out,

T h e < urious w o n d e r s , the vcntriloquial voi< es,

.1
S p a c i o u s landfalls, t h e w o m e n , b e d s i n t h e b l u e ;
Her oceanography
T h e garden pond, her compass a knitting needle.

T h e arc-lamped earth, she k n o w s ,

Will b u r n a w a y and she
Still p o t t e r a m o n g h e r f l o w e r s w a i t i n g for h i m ;
Apollo runs before
T o u c h i n g the blossoms, her u n b o r n sons.

K n i t t i n g , u n k n i t t i n g at t h e half h e a r d
M u s i c o f h e r t a p e s t r y , afraid
Of the sunburned body, the organs, the red beard
Of the unshipped mighty male
H o m e f r o m t h e fairy tale;

P r o v i d i n g for h i m
All t h a t ' s left o f h e r s h e ties a n d k n o t s
Threads everywhere; the luminous house
M u s t h o l d a n d will
H e r trying warlord h o m e .

W i l l she k n o w h i m ?
Dignity begs the question that must follow.
S h e b e n d s t o t h e w e b w h e r e h e r l o r d ' s face
G l i t t e r s b u t has n o f e l l o w
A n d h u m b l y , o r m o s t royally, adds h e r o w n .

YEATS AT ATHENRY PERHAPS

W e h a d o u r t o w e r s t o o , a large
Stone soldiery at bridge and gateway, they
W e r e the w h o l e t o w n once;
A n d I could have n o d d e d to h i m from the top
T e n d r i l o f ivy o r a j a c k d a w ' s n e s t ;
B u t I'd n e v e r h e a r d o f h i m , t h e f a m o u s p o e t .
W h o lived a s t h e c r o w flies f i f t e e n m i l e s a w a y
C e r t a i n l y h e ' d h a v e t o u c h e d u s c h a n g i n g trains
For G o r t , have hours to idle, shared
T h e s i l e n c e o f o u r small t o w n shell;
M a y b e h e passed m e b y
In a n a r r o w - g u t t e d s t r e e t , an a i m l e s s
Straying g e n t l e m a n , and I
T h e jerseyed fellow driving o u t the cows.

O u r s was a sightseeing place that h a d

E x h a u s t e d h i s t o r y , b u t o l d w a r s h a d left
A dead king and a moat
A n d walls still h a l f alive t h a t w a t c h e d
F r o m towers with b r o k e n rims. I d o u b t
H e b o t h e r e d w i t h u s , all his s i g h t t u r n e d i n ;
S o m e p o e m s c o m e b e t t e r w a i t i n g for a t r a i n .

A n d that w i n g e d footprint c o u l d have jarred

T h e peasant m e t r e s of a street given o v e r
To baker, grocer, butcher and
T h e t r e a d m i l l o f t h e till. W h a t w o u l d h e t h i n k
O f o u r o u t c r o p p i n g sheds, the architecture
Of the very necessary animal?
A n d little b e t t e r o u r w e a t h e r e d F a m i n e c h a p e l ?

But on the eve of M a y he might have found

T h i n g s n e a r his h e a r t , F e r t i l i t i e s
1 ) r o p p i n g in;
For then from consecrated g r o u n d w e m o v e d
T h e V i r g i n t o t h e leafing t r e e s
With bonfires, chanting children, the w h o l e w o r k s ;
T h e C a n o n h a d n ' t r e a d t h e latest b o o k s
( ) n golden b o u g h s and o d d divinities.

( ) r w o u l d h e h a v e l o o k e d s u p e r i o r , b e e n difficult
A b o u t O u r L a d y ' s face, t h e soft Italian
I ook of the m i l k i n g m o t h e r , n o t t h e sort
T h a t strings t h e w h o l e air like a c a t a p u l t ?
Ihis was no moon in w o m e n , no
I lnpredi< table lady s a i l i n g
I In wavy shell;
< >ur. kepi t h e h o u s e and a n s w e r e d t h e < hapel b i l l

13
O r s o w e t h o u g h t o r d i d n ' t t h i n k a t all.
D i a n a has h e r s e c r e t s f r o m t h e o a k ;
T h e n u n l i k e n i g h t c o m m i t s itself i n s t r o k e s
O f barbarous shorthand w h e n the candles die.
W h a t ' s fifteen miles? W e c o u l d h a v e r e a d t o g e t h e r
T h e s a m e n i g h t s c r i p t , felt t h e v i b r a t i o n s r u n ,
B o u g h s singing, with the w h o l e south m o v i n g up
To stand in a dripping arch of spring.

I ' d like t o t h i n k h o w o v e r t h e s h e e p a n d c r o p s ,
T h e n u t - c r e g g s a n d t h e l o o s e s t o n e walls w e m e t
In a m u t u a l hazard of b u r n i n g arrows, b u t
I w a s t o o small t h e n , m y w a v e l e n g t h s c a u g h t
In a n y t h i n g l o w - d o w n as a h a w t h o r n tree
A n d j a m m e d t h e r e for a d a y o r all t h e s u m m e r ,
T i m e n o object, profession poetry.

A n y w a y he w o u l d n ' t have dared a t o w n

W h e r e every peeling w i n d o w was an eye;
We smiled of course at strangers, p r o u d
Of a dead king, the lordly
D u n g that s i m m e r e d in the g r o u n d . But I could
H a v e walked h i m r o u n d the moat, in Kingsland s h o w n the rock
W h e r e t h e c r o w n t o p p l e d f r o m t h e last Irish h e a d
A n d a r o y a l f o o t s o l e left a b l o o d y t r a c k .

N o , h e ' d h a v e sat d o w n b y t h e l i n e a n d w a i t e d
M e l t i n g his bits o f o r e o r w a t c h e d t h e sky
J o l t f r o m t h e saltmills o f t h e A t l a n t i c o v e r
A t o w n t h a t d i e d s o o f t e n o f t h e rain;
W h y m u d d y a feathered foot w h e n a great house waited
O v e r i n C o o l e a m o n g the trees
( H e l i k e d his h e r a l d r y a l i v e , w e l l b a i t e d )
W i t h all t h e a m e n i t i e s for M u s e a n d m a n ,
L e d a ' s k i n g b i r d on a l a k e , a l a w n
F o r J u n o ' s p e a c o c k , t r a n q u i l a s a frieze.

5 i
 from THREE HOUSES

1 GURTEEN

I h a d no gift for it.

It hung out in the welter of the m o o r ;
A b l a c k - f a c e d c o u n t r y s t a r i n g in

All d a y . N e v e r d i d t h e s u n
E x p l o d e w i t h f l o w e r s i n t h e d a r k vases
O f t h e w i n d o w s . T h e fall w a s w r o n g

A n d there was uplifted the striking n o r t h

Before the door.
W e l i v e d i n t h e flintlights o f a c a v e r n floor.

I t w a s e n e m y c o u n t r y t o o , t h e rafts o f t h e l o w
Fields f o u n d e r i n g . E v e r y d a y t h e l a t c h
Lifted t o s o m e c a t a s t r o p h e , s u c h a s

A foal d e a d in an o u t f i e l d , a calf lost

In a m u d - s u c k , a h e n laying w i l d in t h e rushes,
A b u l l o c k strayed, a g o o s e g o n e w i t h t h e fox;

T h e epic, if any, going on too long.

N i l t h e g l o r y i n it, n u l l t h e p r o f i t ;
I t w a s t o o b i g for m e a n d full o f t h r e a t .

A p l a c e t h a t g l u g g e d g r e e n i n t h e vast e g g
O f t h e w e a t h e r , t o o littered w i t h rains
And with m i n o r stone-age tragedies like getting w e t

Feet in t h e g o o s e p a d d o c k w a t c h i n g
A n a n g e l , y e s , i n t h e air, i n t h e d u s k , t a k i n g
A rose petal face o u t o f n o t h i n g i n p a r t i c u l a r ,

I ust h a p p e n i n g b i g o u t of a g l i t t e r ,
111law.ire o l m e o r t h e b l a c k - a v i s e d c o u n t r y w h e r e
T h e h a l l - w h e e l ol the day was b o g g i n g d o w n .
Certainly it could have been the m o o n .
A n d t h o u g h I prefer to think otherwise
N o t h i n g h a p p e n e d i n t h e w a y o f ecstasy.

A n d I t o o k i n d o o r s m y g a w k y c h i l d h o o d , still
U n m e a s u r e d , through m u d and the yard m i d d e n
T h a t was acting up and c o m i n g into the kitchen

W i t h the milkers, with the m e n , with the weather,

Feeling as ever that the earth is outside m a t t e r
T r y i n g to get in, to get i n t o t h e very centre

S w a m p t h e s u n f l o w e r s a n d s t o n e circles
A n d all t h a t spirals a n d w i n g s u p , t o b r i n g
T h e tiller b a c k o n t h e o l d c o m p o s t h e a p ,

D u n g value. Petering out

L i k e this f a t h e r - f i g u r e a t t h e fire
C r u m b l i n g into space, w h o was s o m e t h i n g o n c e ,

W h o w a s t h e sage h e r e a n d t h e r e a s o n , w h o raised
T h e roof, b e g o t t h e t r e e ,
H e d g e d the apple and built the causeway d o w n

For the postman w h o never comes, w h o touched

T h e h a r s h sex o f t h e e a r t h t h a t n e v e r b l o o m s ,
A n d w a s g e n t l e d b y this w o m a n w h o s t a n d s i n t h e d o o r

T h e mistress o f a f e w i r o n p o t s ,
W i t h the bogface l o o k i n g in and the barbarous furrows.
I tell o f m y a n g e l a n d t h e b r i g h t t h i n g i s lost

In the c u d of c o w s , in the farming day,

N e v e r t o b l o o m a g a i n a n d w a s h t h e air
T o w a r d s C l o n k e e n C a r l e . I sit d o w n b y t h e fire

A n d b u i l d m y n i g h t l y s t o c k a d e i n t h e ash
W i t h an old catalogue, A r m y & N a v y Stores,
A n d polish t w o pennies bright

56
W h i l e earth and day go u n d e r . B u o y e d up
I n t h e i r b u n d l e s o n t h e n i g h t w a v e are t h e p l o v e r s ,
Blown with the sweet pith of their bones over, the m e n

Drift off t o visit o t h e r o u t p o s t s o f

M a n in nameless townlands, m o o n - s w o l l e n damps.
T h e t w o o l d p e o p l e sit i t o u t ,

A n d h u m p e d in the very posture of the w o m b

On a small s t o o l I r i d e it t o o ,
T h e dull incessant siege, on the black o r b -
T h e epic, if any, going on t o o long.

A BIT OF BRASS

A h o r n h u n g on an oak;
A n d he, the big overplus, the hero
Destined, sounds the famous note, invokes
Cascading Gods and
His o w n death boat.

I d i d lift
A b i t o f b a t t e r e d brass o n c e t o m y m o u t h ,
M a y 1 9 1 5 , after
A day's rain
I n t h e t o w n w a l l e d field w h e r e t h e V o l u n t e e r s
Drilled;

T h a t e v e n i n g t h e w e t o v e r h a n g h a d d a u n t e d all,
Bugler and mate
Gossiped u n d e r a leaking branch, sounding
A n o c c a s i o n a l call,
Joe E g a n , J o s i e R o o n e y ;
I )ear P o s t e r i t y , I w a s t h e r e .

Echoes h u n g
Solidly i n t h e d r o w n e d g r e e n b e e c h t r e e s ,
I lardly s w i n g i n g ;
( all aftci < all b r o u g h l no o n e to t h e field,

s/
T h a t i s n o m a n alive;
T h e m a t e s gave up and I p u r l o i n e d t h e thin:

S q u a w k , a c o u p l e of fancy tootles,
T h e n out of Me minus
It came, the soaring
Thing;
Just once.

It c o u l d be it still h a n g s
In the M a y over
Leonards and the P o u n d Walk, just waiting
T h o s e f e l l o w s , t h e l o n g striders
Gods or m e n
T o t a k e t h e field.

58
 B R I A N C O F F E Y

Born D u n Laoghaire, C o u n t y Dublin, 1905. Educated at C l o n g o w e s

W o o d College and University College Dublin. A b a n d o n e d science for
philosophy in Paris in early 1930s. Lived in England during the
Second W o r l d War. D o c t o r a t e in philosophy from Institut C a t h o l i q u e ,
Paris, 1947. Lectured in philosophy at the University of St Louis,
Missouri, from that year until 1952, w h e n he returned to England.
T a u g h t mathematics in L o n d o n schools until 1972. Lived in
S o u t h a m p t o n until his death in 1995.

Formally, Coffey was perhaps the most anti-traditional of the group of

polyglot y o u n g poets - Beckett, Coffey, Devlin, G e o r g e Reavey, Niall
Sheridan and Niall M o n t g o m e r y - w h o gathered r o u n d M a c G r e e v y in
the 1930s. T h e best of his early w o r k shakes off echoes of Eliot and
Pound to pioneer the minimalist lyric m o d e perfected by Beckett after
the Second W o r l d War. Eschewing what he called 'the aeolian
flatulence of tail-end r h y m e ' , Coffey explores philosophical aspects of
themes such as exile, interpersonal responsibility and the artistic act
in a rhythmically chaste free verse. T h e selections c o m e from
the 1970s and 1980s, the most various and prolific decades
of a lengthy career.

from DEATH OF HEKTOR

I lomer w h e r e b o r n w h e r e buried of w h o m the son

what journeys u n d e r t a k e n n o t k n o w n His w o r k
a b i d e s w i t n e s s t o u n f a l t e r i n g sad gaze c o n s t r a i n e d
A h a r p he uses b a c k g r o u n d for verses s u n g
I l c p a r e d n o fingernails n o t i n d i f f e r e n t not masked
I iglu w e s u p p o s e o n c e h a d e n t e r e d e y e s t o b r a n d m e m o r y
w i t h n o o n ' s e x a c t flame o f s u n m i r r o r e d i n w i n d - s t i r r e d sea
111.M k night for d e a t h C o l o u r s of m o r n i n g e v e n i n g for life
t h e lose t h e g l a u c o u s t h e a m e t h y s t i n e w a v e - w o r k c a r p e t i n g
m a i m e d a n a t o m y bla< k w h i t e red of m a n at w a r
• i i i . m i ' , t h e w o m e n k e e n i n g patient e t h e e m p t i e d hearts

59
H i s ears o p e n t o s p o k e n w o r d a n d w o r d s d o w n t i m e like
w i n d - b l o w n sand
w o r d s o f t r i u m p h u n s l e e p i n g e n m i t i e s w o u n d - u p spells
malice
swirl o f s o u n d c o n t i n u a l m i x e d i n a p e r f e c t e a r
s u r f a c i n g c o h e r e n t t r u e r t h a n h i s t o r y all a n d e v e r y t h i n g

P r u d e n t H o m e r w h o s u r v i v e d t o m a k e his p o e m s
did he k e e p unsaid w o r d l y in i n n e r m o s t anguished heart
w h a t w o u l d n o t h a v e p l e a s e d his c l i e n t b a n q u e t e r s
n o t reached by r e s o n a n c e t h e hearts of self-approving
lords
y e t a t last m i g h t r e a c h o u r r a d d l e d selves

from FOR W H A T FOR W H O M U N W A N T E D

A n d w h e r e n o s n o w had
fallen
to cover just sleeping earth
where no green awakening
promised h i g h w a y w i t h sun
dance laughter
in s u c h a m a t t g r e y p l a c e
of unexpectant waiting
b a c k w a r d staring
t h o s e saffron w h i t e a n d p u r p l e
reflected f r o m bright eyes
lit u p t h a t d u s t a n d p a t i e n c e
waste and e m p t y game
for w h a t i t w a s
S u d d e n l y h e w a s a s n o w field
suddenly bright flowers stirred
suddenly a w o r l d was ready
for h e r w a l k i n g t h r o u g h .
 8

C o n s i d e r his s o n g

N e v e r to have seen
never to have given
never to have taken

Ever vain h o m i n g
ever w h a t is n e w
and not her

Ever the torn heart

scribed ' Y o u '

N e v e r e n o u g h seen
never e n o u g h given
never enough taken

N e v e r departure
never what is n e w
and not her

Ever no change
s a y i n g all w a y s
'You'

(.1
 S A M U E L B E C K E T T

Born Foxrock, Dublin, 1906. Educated at Portora Royal School,

Enniskillen, and Trinity College Dublin. Succeeded M a c G r e e v y as
Trinity lecteur at Ecole N o r m a l e S u p é n e u r e , Paris, 1929. T a u g h t m o d e r n
languages at Trinity, 1 9 3 0 - 2 . Abruptly left Ireland, 1932. Settled Pans,
1937. Involved in Resistance. Fled to south of France, 1942, returning
to Paris after the war. T h e major fiction (Molloy, Malone Dies,
The Unnameable) and drama {Waitingfor Godot, Endgame) written first in
French, then in English, 1 9 4 6 - 5 6 . N o b e l Prize for Literature, 1969.
D i e d 1989.

Beckett's earliest p o e m s play grotesque variations on modernist

allusivencss. A sparer, m o r e elliptical idiom makes its appearance in the
mid-1950s in pieces like 'Cascando'. T h a t p o e m ' s uncharacteristic
afflatus finds no e c h o in the austere (originally French) lyrics of the later
1940s, t h o u g h even these are notably free of the bleak irony of the
novels and plays. T h e radio playlet Words and Music was composed in
English in 1961, and 'Roundelay' in 1976.

CASCANDO

w h y not merely the despaired of

occasion of
wordshed

is it n o t better abort than be barren

t h e h o u r s after y o u a r e g o n e a r e s o l e a d e n
t h e y will a l w a y s start d r a g g i n g t o o s o o n
the grapples clawing blindly the b e d of w a n t
bringing up the b o n e s the old loves
s o c k e t s filled o n c e w i t h eyes like y o u r s
all a l w a y s i s i t b e t t e r t o o s o o n t h a n n e v e r
t h e b l a c k w a n t s p l a s h i n g t h e i r faces
s a y i n g again n i n e days n e v e r floated t h e l o v e d

62
nor nine months
n o r n i n e lives

saying again
i f y o u d o n o t t e a c h m e I shall n o t l e a r n
s a y i n g a g a i n t h e r e is a last
e v e n o f last t i m e s
last t i m e s o f b e g g i n g
last t i m e s o f l o v i n g
of k n o w i n g not knowing pretending
a last e v e n of last t i m e s of s a y i n g
i f y o u d o n o t l o v e m e I shall n o t b e l o v e d
i f I d o n o t l o v e y o u I shall n o t l o v e

t h e c h u r n o f stale w o r d s i n t h e h e a r t a g a i n
love love love thud of the old plunger
pestling the unalterable
whey of words

terrified again
of not loving
of loving and not you
of being loved and not by you
of k n o w i n g not knowing pretending
pretending

I a n d all t h e o t h e r s t h a t will l o v e y o u
if they love you

unless t h e y love y o u

' m y w a y is in t h e sand flowing'

my w a y is in t h e sand flowing
b e t w e e n the shingle and the d u n e
t h e s u m m e r rain r u n s o n m y lile

i. \
o n m e m y life h a r r y i n g f l e e i n g
t o its b e g i n n i n g t o its e n d

my peace is there in the receding mist

w h e n I m a y cease f r o m t r e a d i n g t h e s e l o n g s h i f t i n g
thresholds
a n d live t h e space o f a d o o r
that o p e n s and shuts

' w h a t w o u l d I d o w i t h o u t this w o r l d faceless i n c u r i o u s '

w h a t w o u l d I d o w i t h o u t this w o r l d faceless i n c u r i o u s
w h e r e t o b e lasts b u t a n i n s t a n t w h e r e e v e r y i n s t a n t
spills i n t h e v o i d t h e i g n o r a n c e o f h a v i n g b e e n
w i t h o u t this w a v e w h e r e i n t h e e n d
b o d y a n d s h a d o w t o g e t h e r are engulfed
w h a t w o u l d I d o w i t h o u t this s i l e n c e w h e r e t h e m u r m u r s d i e
t h e p a n t i n g s t h e frenzies t o w a r d s s u c c o u r t o w a r d s l o v e
w i t h o u t this sky t h a t soars
a b o v e its ballast d u s t

w h a t w o u l d I do w h a t I did yesterday and the day before

p e e r i n g o u t o f m y d e a d l i g h t l o o k i n g for a n o t h e r
w a n d e r i n g like m e e d d y i n g far f r o m all t h e l i v i n g
in a c o n v u l s i v e space
a m o n g the voices voiceless
that t h r o n g my hiddenness

from W O R D S AND MUSIC

A g e is w h e n to a m a n
H u d d l e d o ' e r the ingle
S h i v e r i n g for t h e h a g
T o p u t t h e p a n in t h e b e d
A n d bring the toddy
S h e c o m e s i n t h e ashes
W h o loved could not be w o n
Or w o n not loved

64
Or some other trouble
C o m e s i n t h e ashes
Like in that old light
T h e face i n t h e ashes
T h a t o l d starlight
O n the earth again.

ROUNDELAY

o n all t h a t s t r a n d
at e n d o f d a y
steps sole s o u n d
l o n g sole s o u n d
u n t i l u n b i d d e n stay
then no sound
o n all t h a t s t r a n d
long no sound
until u n b i d d e n go
steps sole s o u n d
l o n g sole s o u n d
o n all t h a t s t r a n d
at e n d o f d a y
 J O H N H E W I T T

Born Belfast, 1907. Educated at Methodist College and Q u e e n ' s

University Belfast. W o r k e d for twenty-seven years in Belfast M u s e u m
and Art Gallery. Passed over for post of director in 1953, apparently
because of his left-wing, anti-sectarian politics. M o v e d to C o v e n t r y as
director of the H e r b e r t Art Gallery and M u s e u m , 1957. Retired 1972
and returned to Belfast. Died 1987.

H e w i t t ' s assiduously crafted, if formally u n a d v e n t u r o u s verse counters

the grand narratives of imperialism and nationalism with a democratic,
secular and yet recognisably Protestant empiricism. 'I may appear
Planter's G o t h i c , ' he w r o t e in 1953, 'but there is a r o u n d t o w e r
s o m e w h e r e inside, and needled through every sentence I utter.'
Identifying with the radicalism of the Presbyterian U n i t e d Irishmen and
of the e i g h t e e n t h - and n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y R h y m i n g Weavers of Antrim
and D o w n (whose w o r k he anthologised), H e w i t t struggles to keep
viable a submerged Ulster tradition of tolerance and faith in h u m a n
progress. His Georgian m a n n e r is deceptive: he is capable of
considerable t o u g h - m i n d e d n e s s , as in ' T h e C o l o n y ' , w h e r e he sustains
an elaborate analogy b e t w e e n R o m a n colonists and the planters of
Ulster. He can also disarm criticism: 'A Local Poet' offers itself
alternatively as a wry critique of the neat closures of his style or as a self-
rebuke for the reticence of his w o r k on the discrimination against
Catholics in the years leading up to the Troubles.

from FREEHOLD

from I I T H E L O N E L Y H E A R T

O n c e i n a seaside t o w n w i t h t i m e t o kill,
t h e w i n d l e s s w i n t e r - d a y l i g h t e b b i n g chill,
t h e cafes s h u t till J u n e , t h e s h o p b l i n d s d r a w n ,
only o n e p u b yet o p e n w h e r e a m a n
t r u n d l e d his b a r r e l s off a d r a y w i t h c a r e ,
a n d t w o m e n t a l k i n g , small across t h e s q u a r e ,
I t u r n e d from broad street, d o w n a red-brick r o w ,
past p r a m s i n p a r l o u r s a n d i n f r e q u e n t s h o w

66
o f t h r u s t i n g b u l b t i p s , till h i g h steps a n d p o r c h
a n d rigid s t a t u e signalised a c h u r c h .
I c l i m b e d t h e g r a n i t e past S a i n t P a t r i c k ' s k n e e s ,
s a w cross i n s t o n e , b e f i n g e r e d , r i n g e d w i t h g r e a s e ,
a n d w a t e r in a s t o u p w i t h oily skin,
s w u n g d o o r o n stall o f b o o k l e t s a n d w e n t i n
to t h e d i m stained-glass cold interior
b e t w e e n l o w p e w s a l o n g a m a r b l e floor
t o w h e r e t h e c a n d l e s b u r n e d , still k e e p i n g p a c e
w i t h u g l y - c o l o u r e d Stations of the Cross.
T w o children tiptoed in and prayed awhile.
A s h a b b y w o m a n in a f a d e d s h a w l
c a m e h i r p l i n g past m e t h e n , a n d c r u m p l e d d o w n ,
crossing herself and m u m b l i n g m o n o t o n e .

I s t o o d a n d g a z e d across t h e altar rail

a t t h e tall w i n d o w s , c o l d a n d w i n t e r p a l e ;
Christ and His M o t h e r , Christ and Lazarus,
Christ w a t c h i n g Martha bustle r o u n d the house,
Christ c r o w n e d , w i t h sceptre and a blessing hand.
I c o u n t e d seven candles on the stand;
a b o x o f m a t c h e s o f familiar b r a n d
lay o n a tray. I t s o m e h o w s e e m e d m y r i g h t
t o p a y m y p e n n y a n d set u p m y l i g h t ,
n o t t o this c o l o u r e d C h r i s t n o r t o H i s M o t h e r ,
b u t single f l a m e t o s w a y w i t h all t h e o t h e r
small e a r n e s t flames against t h e c r o w d i n g g l o o m
w h i c h seemed that year descending on o u r time,
s u p p r e s s e d t h e fancy, s m i l e d a c y n i c t h o u g h t ,
turned clicking heel on marble and w e n t out.

N o t this m y f a t h e r s ' faith: t h e i r walls a r e b a r e ;

t h e i r c o m f o r t ' s all w i t h i n , i f a n y w h e r e .
1 h a d g o n e t h e r e a v a c a n t h o u r t o pass,
t o see t h e s c u l p t u r e a n d a d m i r e t h e glass,
but left as I h a d c o m e , a p r o t e s t a n t ,
a n d all u n c o n s c i o u s o f m y y a w n i n g w a n t ;
t o o m u c h i n t e n t o n w h a t t o criticise
t o give m y heart t h e r o o m t o realise
thai whit h e n d u r e s t h e tides ol t u n e so l o n g
i . 1 1 1 1 1 < >i be always a b s o l u t e l y w r o n g ;
 n o t e v e n w i t h a friendly t h o u g h t or h u m a n
for t h e t w o c h i l d r e n a n d t h e p r a y i n g w o m a n .
T h e years s i n c e t h e n h a v e p r o v e d I s h o u l d h a v e s t a y e d
a n d m e r c y m i g h t h a v e t o u c h e d m e till I p r a y e d .

For n o w I scorn no m a n ' s or child's belief

in any symbol that m a y succour grief
i f w e r e m e m b e r w h e n c e life first a r o s e
and h o w w i t h i n us yet that river flows;
a n d h o w t h e fabled s h a p e s i n d r e a m ' s d e e p sea
still e v i d e n c e o u r c o n t i n u i t y
w i t h being's seamless g a r m e n t , w e b a n d t h r e a d .

O w i n d b l o w n grass u p o n t h e m o u n d e d d e a d ,
O s e e d i n c r e v i c e o f t h e frost-split r o c k ,
t h e p o w e r t h a t fixed y o u r r o o t shall t a k e u s b a c k ,
t h o u g h e n d l e s s l y t h r o u g h a e o n s w e are t h r u s t
as l u m i n o u s or unreflecting dust.

T H E RAM'S H O R N

I have t u r n e d to the landscape because m e n disappoint m e :

t h e t r u n k o f a t r e e i s p r o u d ; w h e n t h e w o o d m e n fell it,
it still has a c o n t a i n e d i o n i c s o l e m n i t y :
i t i s a r o u n d e d e v e n t w i t h o u t t h e n e e d t o tell it.

I have never been compelled to turn away from the dawn

b e c a u s e i t carries t r e a s o n b e h i n d its w a k e n e d face:
even the horned ram, glowering over the bog hole,
t h o u g h s y m b o l o f e v i l , w i l l s t e p t h r o u g h t h e b l o w n grass w i t h
grace.

A n i m a l , plant, or insect, stone or water,

are, every m i n u t e , themselves; they behave by law.
I a m n o t r e q u i r e d t o d i s c o v e r m o t i v e s for t h e m ,
o r strip m y h e a r t t o f o r g i v e t h e rat i n t h e s t r a w .

1 live m y b e s t i n t h e l a n d s c a p e , b e i n g a t ease t h e r e ;
t h e o n l y t r o u b l e I find I h a v e b r o u g h t in my h a n d

68
 S e e , I let it fall w i t h a r u s t l e of s t e m s in t h e n e t t l e s ,
a n d n e v e r for a m o m e n t s u p p o s e t h a t t h e y u n d e r s t a n d .

THE C O L O N Y

First c a m e t h e l e g i o n s , t h e n t h e c o l o n i s t s ,
p r o v i n c i a l s , landless c i t i z e n s , a n d s o m e
c a m p - f o l l o w e r s o f restless g e n e r a l s
c o n t e n t n o w o n l y w i t h t h e least o f w a r s .
A m o n g this r a b b l e , s o m e t o feel m o r e free
b e y o n d t h e r e a d y w h i m o f C a e s a r ' s fist;
for c o n s c i e n c e ' sake t h e b e s t o f t h e s e , b u t o t h e r s
because their debts h a d t o n g u e s , o n e reckless m a n ,
a t a x a b s c o n d e r w i t h a sack of c o i n .
•

W i t h t h e s e , y o u n g l a w clerks skilled (with c h a r t a n d stylus,

t h e i r b o x e s c r a m m e d w i t h lease-scrolls d u l y m a r k e d

W h e n t h e y ' d surveyed the land,

t h e y g a v e t h e r i c h e r tillage, t r a c t b y t r a c t ,
from the great captains d o w n to m e n - a t - a r m s ,
s o m e of the sprawling rents to be retained
by C a e s a r ' s mistresses in t h e i r far villas.

W e p l a n t e d little t o w n s t o g a r r i s o n
t h e h e a v i n g c o u n t r y , h e a p i n g walls o f e a r t h
a n d k e e p i n g all o u r cattle close a t h a n d ;
t h e n , t h r u s t i n g n o r t h a n d w e s t , w e felled t h e t r e e s ,
selling t h e m off t h e foothills, at a s t r o k e
m a k i n g quick profits, s m o k i n g o u t t h e nests
o f t h e b a r b a r i a n t r i b e s m e n , clan b y c l a n ,
who h u n k e r e d in their blankets, biding chance,
till, u n o b s e r v e d , t h e y s l i t h e r d o w n a n d r u n
with torch and blade a m o n g the frontier huts
w h e n guards were n o d d i n g , or w h e n shining corn
b a d e s w o r d - h a n d g r i p t h e sickle. T h e r e was o n c e
.1 t e r r i b l e ycai w h e n , h u d d l e d in »>iu t o w n s ,
IIly people trembled as the beat o n s ran
f r o m hill t o hill across t h e c o u n t r y s i d e ,
c a l l i n g t h e dispossessed t o lift t h e i r s t a n d a r d s .
T h e r e was great slaughter t h e n , m a n , w o m a n , child,
w i t h fire a n d pillage o f o u r t i m b e r e d h o u s e s ;
w e h a d t o b u i l d i n s t o n e for e v e r after.

T h a t t e r r o r d o g s us; b a c k o f all o u r t h o u g h t
t h e t h r e a t b e h i n d t h e d r e a m , t h o s e b e a c o n s flare,
a n d w e r u n h e a d l o n g , s c r e a m i n g i n o u r fear;
fear q u i c k e n e d b y t h e m e m o r y o f guilt
for w e b e g a n t h e p l u n d e r - n a k e d m e n
still h a v e t h e i r h o u s e h o l d g o d s a n d h o l y p l a c e s ,
a n d w h a t a p e o p l e l o v e s i t will d e f e n d .
W e t o o k their temples from t h e m and forbade t h e m
for m a n y y e a r s , t o w o r s h i p t h e i r s t r a n g e i d o l s .
T h e y gathered secret, d e e p in the d r i p p i n g glens,
chanting their prayers before a lichened rock.

W e t o o k t h e k i n d l i e r soils. I t h a d b e e n t h e i r s ,
this p a t i e n t , t e m p e r a t e , s l o w , i n d i f f e r e n t ,
crop-yielding, crop-denying, in-neglect-
quickly-returning-to-the-nettle-and-bracken,
s o d d e n and friendly land. W e t o o k i t from t h e m .
We laboured hard and stubborn, draining, planting,
till h a l f t h e c o u n t r y t o o k its s h a p e f r o m u s .

O n l y a m o n g t h e hills w i t h h a r e a n d k e s t r e l
will y o u o b s e r v e w h a t o n c e this l a n d w a s like
b e f o r e w e m a d e i t fat for h u m a n u s e -
all b u t t h e forests, all b u t t h e tall t r e e s -
I c o u l d i n v e n t a l e g e n d of t h o s e t r e e s ,
and h o w their creatures, dryads, hamadryads,
fled f r o m t h e c o p s e s , h i d i n t h o r n y b u s h e s ,
a n d g r e w a c r o o k e d a n d m a l i g n a n t folk,
p l o t t i n g a n d w a i t i n g for a b i t t e r r e v e n g e
on their despoilers. So o u r troubled t h o u g h t
is from e n c h a n t m e n t s of the old tree magic,
b u t I am n o t a sick a n d h a u n t e d m a n . . .

T e a m s of the t a m e r natives we e m p l o y e d
t o h e w a n d c h a w , but d i d not call t h e m slaves.

/II
S o m e say this w a s o u r e r r o r . O t h e r s c l a i m
w e w e r e t o o slow t o m a k e t h e m citizens;
w e m i g h t have m a d e t h e m Caesar's bravest legions.
T h i s is a m a t t e r for h i s t o r i a n s ,
or old beards in the Senate to w a g over,
n o t p e r t i n e n t to us these m a n y years.

B u t here and there the land was p o o r and starved,

w h i c h , t h o u g h w e m a p p e d , w e did not occupy,
l e a v i n g t h e n a t i v e s , o u t o f laziness
i n o u r d e m a n d i n g it, t o h o l d u n l e a s e d
t h e m a r s h y q u a r t e r s , fens, t h e b r o k e n hills,
a n d all t h e r o u g h e r places w h e r e t h e w h i n
still t h r u s t f r o m l i m e s t o n e w i t h its c r a c k i n g p o d s .

T h e y multiplied and came with open hands,

b e g g i n g a crust because their land was p o o r ,
a n d t h e y w e r e m a n y ; s q u a t t i n g a t o u r gates,
till o u r t o w n s g r e w a n d t h r e w t h e m h o v e l l e d lanes
w h i c h t h e y i n h a b i t still. Y o u m a y d i s t i n g u i s h ,
i f y o u w e r e s c h o o l e d w i t h us, b y p i g m e n t a t i o n ,
b y cast o f f e a t u r e s o r b y t u r n o f p h r a s e ,
o r b y t h e c l a n n a m e s o n t h e m w h i c h are t h e y ,
a m o n g t h e faces m o v i n g i n t h e s t r e e t .
T h e y w o r s h i p H e a v e n s t r a n g e l y , h a v i n g rites
w e s n i g g e r at, a r e k n o w n a s s u p e r s t i t i o u s ,
c u n n i n g by nature, never to be trusted,
given to dancing and a kind of song
seductive to t h e ear, a w h i n i n g s o r r o w .
Also they b r e e d like f l i e s . T h e danger's t h e r e ;
w h e n C a e s a r ' s o l d a n d lays his s c e p t r e d o w n ,
w e ' l l b e a little p e o p l e , w e l l o u t n u m b e r e d .

S o m e o f u s t h i n k o u r leases h a v e r u n o u t
b u t dig square heels in, k e e p the roads repaired;
and o n e or t w o loud voices w o u l d restore
the rack, the y e l l o w patch, the c u r f e w e d g h e t t o .
M o s t try t o i g n o r e t h e q u e s t i o n , g o i n g t h e i r w a y ,
glad t o b e l i v i n g , s u r e that C a e s a r ' s w o r d
is ( l a e s a r ' s b o n d for l e g i o n s in o u r n e e d .
A m o n g us, s o m e , b e g u i l e d b y t h e n sad musit ,

/I
m a k e c o m m o n cause w i t h t h e natives, i n their hearts
h o p i n g t o w i n a t r u c e w h e n t h e t r i b e s assert
their ancient right and take w h a t o n c e was theirs.
Already from o t h e r lands t h e legions e b b
and m e n no longer k n o w the R o m a n peace.

A l o n e , I have a harder r o w to h o e :
I t h i n k these natives h u m a n , think their c o d e ,
t h o u g h strange to us, and farther from the t r u t h ,
o n l y a little so - to be r e d e e m e d
i f t h e y t h e m s e l v e s rise u p against t h e spells
a n d fears t h e i r c e l i b a t e s s u r r o u n d t h e m w i t h .
I find t h e i r s y m b o l s g o o d , a s s u c h , for m e ,
w h e n I walk in dark places of t h e heart;
but name them not to be misunderstood.
I k n o w no vices t h e y m o n o p o l i s e ,
if we allow the forms by h u n g e r bred,
t h e sores o f o l d o p p r e s s i o n , t h e d e e p skill
i n all evasive acts, t h e s w a d d l e d m i n d s ,
a d m i t o u r l o a d o f g u i l t -\l m o u r n t h e t r e e s
m o r e than as symbol - and w o u l d m a k e amends
b y f r a t e r n i s i n g , b y small f r i e n d l y g e s t u r e s ,
hoping by patient words I may convince
m y p e o p l e a n d this p e o p l e w e are c h a n g e d
f r o m t h e r a w levies w h i c h u s u r p e d t h e l a n d ,
if not to kin, to co-inhabitants,
a s g o a t a n d o x m a y g r a z e i n t h e s a m e field
and each gain s o m e t h i n g from p r o x i m i t y ; \
for w e h a v e r i g h t s d r a w n f r o m t h e soil a n d sky;
t h e u s e , t h e p a c e , t h e p a t i e n t years o f l a b o u r ,
t h e r a i n against t h e lips, t h e c h a n g i n g l i g h t ,
t h e h e a v y c l a y - s u c k e d s t r i d e , h a v e a l t e r e d us;
w e w o u l d b e strangers i n the Capitol;
this i s o u r c o u n t r y also, n o w h e r e else;
a n d w e shall n o t b e o u t c a s t o n t h e w o r l d .
 SUBSTANCE AND S H A D O W

T h e r e is a b a r e n e s s in t h e i m a g e s
I temper time with in my mind's defence;
they hold their o w n , their s t u b b o r n secrecies;
n o use t o r a g e against t h e i r r e t i c e n c e :
a g a n n e t ' s p l u n g e , a h e r o n by a p o n d ,
a last r o o k h o m i n g a s t h e s u n g o e s d o w n ,
a s p i d e r s q u a t t i n g on a b r a c k e n - f r o n d ,
a n d thistles in a c o r n s h e a f s t u f t e d c r o w n ,
a b o u l d e r on a h i l l s i d e , l i c h e n - s t a i n e d ,
t h e sparks o f s u n o n d r i p p i n g icicles,
their durable significance c o n t a i n e d
i n t e x t u r e , c o l o u r , s h a p e , a n d n o t h i n g else.
All t h e s e are s h a r p , s p a r e , s i m p l e , n a t i v e t o
this small r e p u b l i c I h a v e c h a r t e d o u t
as the sure acre w h e r e my sense is t r u e ,
w h i l e r o u n d its b o u n d a r i e s s p r a w l t h e s c r e e s o f d o u b t .

M y l a m p lights u p t h e k e t t l e o n t h e s t o v e
a n d t h r o w s its s h a d o w o n t h e w h i t e w a s h e d w a l l ,
like s o m e A s s y r i a n p r o f i l e w i t h , a b o v e ,
a s n a k e , o r b i r d - p r o w e d h e l m e t c r e s t e d tall;
b u t this r e m a i n s a s h a d o w ; w h e n I shift
the lamp or m o v e the kettle it is g o n e ,
t h e s u b s t a n c e a n d t h e s h a d o w b r e a k adrift
that n e e d e d b r o n z e to lock t h e m , b r o n z e or stone.

AN IRISHMAN IN C O V E N T R Y

A full y e a r s i n c e , I t o o k this e a g e r c i t y ,
t h e t o l e r a n c e t h a t l a c e d its b l a t a n t r o a r ,
its f a m o u s s t e e p l e s a n d its w e b o f g i r d e r s ,
as i m a g e of t h e state h o p e a r g u e d for,
a n d scarcely f l u n g a b i t t e r t h o u g h t b e h i n d m e
o n all that flaws t h e g l o r y a n d t h e g r a c e
w h i c h r i b b o n s t h r o u g h t h e sick, g u i l t - c l o t t e d l e g e n d
of my i r e e d - h a u n t e d , g o d f o r s a k e n r a c e .
M y rhetoric s w u n g r o u n d from steel's h i g h p r o m i s e

M
to the precision of the well-gauged tool,
t r a c i n g t h e l o g i c i n t h e vast glass h e a d l a n d s ,
the clockwork horse, the comprehensive school.

T h e n , sudden, by occasion's chance concerted,

in enclave of my nation, b u t apart,
t h e j i g g i n g d a n c e s a n d t h e l i l t i n g fiddle
stirred t h e old rage a n d pity in my heart.
T h e faces a n d t h e v o i c e s b l u r r i n g r o u n d m e ,
t h e s t r o n g h a n d s l o n g familiar w i t h t h e s p a d e ,
the whiskey-tinctured breath, the pious buttons,
called u p a p e o p l e e n d l e s s l y b e t r a y e d
b y o u r o w n w e a k n e s s , b y t h e w r o n g s w e suffered
in that l o n g twilight o v e r b o g and glen,
b y f o r c e , b y f a m i n e a n d b y g l i t t e r i n g fables
w h i c h gave u s martyrs w h e n w e n e e d e d m e n ,
b y faith w h i c h h a d n o c h a r i t y t o offer,
by poisoned m e m o r y , and by ready wit,
with poverty corroded into malice,
to hit and r u n a n d h o w l w h e n it is hit.
T h i s i s o u r fate: e i g h t h u n d r e d y e a r s ' disaster,
crazily t a n g l e d a s t h e B o o k o f Kells;
the dream's distortion and the land's division,
t h e m i d n i g h t r a i d e r s a n d t h e p r i s o n cells.
Y e t like Lir's c h i l d r e n b a n i s h e d t o t h e w a t e r s
o u r h e a r t s still listen for t h e l a n d w a r d bells.

A LOCAL P O E T

H e f o l l o w e d t h e i r l i l t i n g stanzas
through a thousand columns or m o r e ,
a n d s c r a t c h e d for t h e s p l i n t e r e d c o u p l e t s
i n t h e c r a c k s o n t h e c o t t a g e floor,
for his R h y m i n g W e a v e r s fell silent
w h e n they flocked t h r o u g h the factory d o o r .

H e ' d imagined a highway of heroes

a n d s t e p p e d aside o n t h e grass
t o lei ( ) u c h u l l a i n ' s c h a r i o i t h r o u g h .

i
a n d t h e S t a r r y P l o u g h m e n pass;
but he m e t the Travelling G u n m a n
i n s t e a d o f t h e Galloglass.

A n d s o , w i t h l u c k , for a d e c a d e
d o w n t h e w i d o w e d years a h e a d ,
t h e p e n s i o n w h i c h c r i p p l e d his c o u r a g e
will k e e p h i m i n daily b r e a d ,
w h i l e h e m o u r n s for his m a n n e r l y v e r s e s
t h a t h a d left s o m u c h u n s a i d .
 L O U I S M A C N E I C E

Born Belfast, 1907, to C o u n t y Galway parents. C h i l d h o o d in

Carrickfergus, C o u n t y Antrim, w h e r e father, later bishop of D o w n ,
C o n n o r and D r o m o r e , was rector. Educated at Sherborne Preparatory
School, Marlborough School and M e r t o n College, Oxford. Lecturer in
classics at University of B i r m i n g h a m , 1 9 3 0 - 6 ; in G r e e k at Bedford
College, University of L o n d o n , 1936-40. W o r k e d in features
d e p a r t m e n t of B B C , L o n d o n , 1 9 4 1 - 6 1 . Freelanced at the B B C until death
in 1963. A distinguished critic and radio dramatist, M a c N e i c e left an
unfinished autobiography, The Strings Arc False (1965).

Perhaps as a consequence of early exposure to the divergent influences

of Ulster, C o n n a c h t and England, M a c N e i c e was distrustful of political
abstractions and incapable of the c o m m i t m e n t of the English 'Thirties
poets' with w h o m he has b e e n t o o strongly identified. His verse
combines delight in the colour and variety of the physical world - 'the
drunkenness of things b e i n g various' - with a stoical melancholy. His
almost Platonic dualism can be seen alike in the early love p o e m
'Mayfly' and in Autumn Journal, w h e r e he orchestrates a rich flow of
c o m m e n t , m e m o r y , anecdote, speculation and opinion r o u n d a moral
core of concern for the inadequacy of the c o n t e m p o r a r y response to the
M u n i c h crisis. Section XVI, the most energetic of M a c N e i c e ' s many
attempted valedictions to Ireland, achieves the ' i m p u r e poetry' he
advocated in Modern Poetry: A Personal Essay (1938); its inaccuracies and
injustices - flattery of English prejudice about de Valera's Ireland a m o n g
t h e m - are ultimately less important than its flexibility and its
a c c o m m o d a t i o n of areas of feeling and experience scanted by High
M o d e r n i s m . Autumn Sequel is a less animated performance, t h o u g h
C a n t o X X ' s account of the funeral of Dylan T h o m a s ('Gwilym') deserves
to be better k n o w n . In ' W e s t e r n Landscape' the topography of Ireland
serves M a c N e i c e as a correlative for the indeterminacy to w h i c h he was
inclined, both intellectually and psychologically. T h e lyrics written in
the years leading up to his death after a few days' illness at the age of
fifty-five are the most delicate and daring of M a c N e i c e ' s career.
 MAYFLY

B a r o m e t e r o f m y m o o d s today, mayfly,
Up and d o w n o n e a m o n g a million, o n e
T h e s a m e a t b e s t a s t h e rest o f t h e j i g g i n g m a y f l i e s ,
O n e o n l y d a y o f M a y alive b e n e a t h t h e s u n .

T h e y o k e l s tilt t h e i r p e w t e r s a n d t h e f o a m
Flowers in the sun beside the j e w e l l e d water.
D a u g h t e r o f t h e S o u t h , call t h e s u n b e a m s h o m e
T o n e s t b e t w e e n y o u r breasts. T h e k i n g c u p s
E p h e m e r a l are gay g u l p s o f l a u g h t e r .

G u l p of yellow m e r r i m e n t ; cackle of ripples;

Lips o f t h e r i v e r t h a t p o u t a n d w h i s p e r r o u n d t h e r e e d s .
T h e m a y f l y flirting a n d p o s t u r i n g o v e r t h e w a t e r
G o e s u p a n d d o w n i n t h e lift s o m a n y t i m e s for fun.

' W h e n w e are g r o w n u p w e a r e s u r e t o a l t e r
M u c h for t h e b e t t e r , t o a d o p t s o l i d e r c r e e d s ;
T h e k i n g c u p will cease p r o f f e r i n g his c u p
A n d t h e f o a m will h a v e b l o w n f r o m t h e b e e r a n d t h e h e a t
no longer dance
A n d t h e lift lose fascination a n d t h e M a y
C h a n g e h e r t u n e t o J u n e - b u t t h e t r o u b l e w i t h u s mayflies
Is that we n e v e r have the c h a n c e to be g r o w n u p . '

T h e y never have the chance, but what of time they have

T h e y s t r e t c h o u t t a u t a n d t h i n a n d r i n g i n g clear;
S o w e , w h o s e s t r a n d o f life i s n o t m u c h m o r e ,
I ,et u s t o o m a k e o u r t i m e elastic a n d
Inconsequently dance above the dazzling w a v e .

N o r put too m u c h on the sympathy of things,

T h e dregs of drink, the dried cups of flowers,
T h e pathetic fallacy o f t h e p a s s i n g h o u r s
W h e n i t i s w e w h o pass t h e m - h o u r s o f s t o n e ,
Long rows of granite sphinxes looking on.

It is we w h o pass t h e m , we the circus masters

W h o m a k e t h e mayflies d a m e , t h e l a p w i n g s lilt theii < rests,
 T h e s h o w will s o o n s h u t d o w n , its g a y - r a g s g o n e ,
B u t w h e n this s u m m e r i s o v e r let u s d i e t o g e t h e r ,
I w a n t a l w a y s t o b e n e a r y o u r breasts.

SNOW

T h e r o o m was suddenly r i c h and the great b a y - w i n d o w was

S p a w n i n g s n o w a n d p i n k roses against i t
S o u n d l e s s l y collateral a n d i n c o m p a t i b l e :
W o r l d i s s u d d e n e r t h a n w e f a n c y it.

W o r l d is crazier and m o r e of it than we think,

Incorrigibly plural. I peel and p o r t i o n
A t a n g e r i n e a n d spit t h e p i p s a n d feel
T h e drunkenness of things b e i n g various.

A n d t h e fire f l a m e s w i t h a b u b b l i n g s o u n d for w o r l d
I s m o r e spiteful a n d gay t h a n o n e s u p p o s e s -
O n t h e t o n g u e o n t h e e y e s o n t h e ears i n t h e p a l m s o f o n e ' s
hands -
T h e r e i s m o r e t h a n glass b e t w e e n t h e s n o w a n d t h e h u g e roses.

from A U T U M N JOURNAL

XVI

N i g h t m a r e leaves fatigue:
W e envy m e n o f action
W h o sleep and w a k e , m u r d e r and intrigue
W i t h o u t being doubtful, without being haunted.
A n d I envy the intransigence of my o w n
C o u n t r y m e n w h o s h o o t t o kill a n d n e v e r
S e e t h e v i c t i m ' s face b e c o m e t h e i r o w n
O r find his m o t i v e s a b o t a g e t h e i r m o t i v e s .
So reading the m e m o i r s of M a u d G o n n e ,
D a u g h t e r o f a n English m o t h e r a n d a s o l d i e r l a t h e r .
I n o t e h o w a single p u r p o s e c a n b e f o u n d e d o n
A j u m b l e of opposites:
I ) u b h n C a s t l e , t h e v i c e - r e g a l ball,
T h e embassies o f E u r o p e ,
I l a t r e d s c r i b b l e d on a w a l l ,
Gaols and revolvers.
A n d I r e m e m b e r , w h e n I w a s little, t h e fear
Bandied a m o n g the servants
That C a s e m e n t w o u l d l a n d a t t h e p i e r
W i t h a s w o r d and a h o r d e of rebels;
A n d h o w we used to e x p e c t , at a later date,
W h e n the w i n d blew from the west, the noise of shooting
Starting in the e v e n i n g at eight
I n Belfast i n t h e Y o r k S t r e e t district;
And the v o o d o o of the O r a n g e bands
D r a w i n g an iron net t h r o u g h darkest Ulster,
flailing the l i m b o lands -
T h e l i n e n mills, t h e l o n g w e t grass, t h e r a g g e d h a w t h o r n .
A n d o n e r e a d b l a c k w h e r e t h e o t h e r r e a d w h i t e , his h o p e
T h e other man's damnation:
Up the Rebels, To Hell with the Pope,
A n d G o d Save - a s y o u p r e f e r - t h e K i n g o r I r e l a n d .
The l a n d o f scholars a n d saints:
S c h o l a r s a n d saints m y e y e , t h e l a n d o f a m b u s h ,
Purblind manifestoes, n e v e r - e n d i n g complaints,
T h e b o r n m a r t y r a n d t h e gallant n i n n y ;
The g r o c e r d r u n k w i t h t h e d r u m ,
T h e l a n d - o w n e r s h o t i n his b e d , t h e a n g r y v o i c e s
Piercing t h e b r o k e n fanlight in t h e slum,
T h e s h a w l e d w o m a n w e e p i n g a t t h e garish altar.
Kathaleen ni Houlihan! W h y
M u s t a c o u n t r y , like a s h i p or a car, be a l w a y s f e m a l e ,
M o t h e r or sweetheart? A w o m a n passing by,
W e d i d b u t see h e r passing.
Passing like a p a t c h of s u n on t h e r a i n y hill
A n d yet w e l o v e h e r for e v e r a n d h a t e o u r n e i g h b o u r
A n d e a c h o n e in his will
Hinds his heirs t o c o n t i n u a n c e o f h a t r e d .
I M u m s on the h a y c o c k , d r u m s on the harvest, black
I >IIUIIS in t h e night s h a k i n g t h e w i n d o w s :
K i n g W i l l i a m i s r i d i n g his w h i t e h o r s e b a c k
To the Boyne on a banner.
Thousands of banners, thousands of white
Horses, thousands of Williams
W a v i n g t h o u s a n d s o f s w o r d s a n d r e a d y t o fight
T i l l t h e b l u e sea t u r n s t o o r a n g e .
Such was my c o u n t r y and I t h o u g h t I was well
O u t o f it, e d u c a t e d a n d d o m i c i l e d i n E n g l a n d ,
T h o u g h y e t h e r n a m e k e e p s r i n g i n g like a b e l l
I n a n u n d e r - w a t e r belfry.
W h y d o w e like b e i n g Irish? P a r t l y b e c a u s e
It gives us a h o l d on t h e s e n t i m e n t a l English
As m e m b e r s of a w o r l d that n e v e r was,
B a p t i s e d w i t h fairy w a t e r ;
A n d p a r t l y b e c a u s e I r e l a n d i s small e n o u g h
T o b e still t h o u g h t o f w i t h a family f e e l i n g ,
A n d b e c a u s e t h e w a v e s are r o u g h
T h a t split h e r f r o m a m o r e c o m m e r c i a l c u l t u r e ;
A n d b e c a u s e o n e feels t h a t h e r e a t least o n e c a n
D o local w o r k w h i c h i s n o t a t t h e w o r l d ' s m e r c y
A n d t h a t o n this t i n y stage w i t h l u c k a m a n
M i g h t see t h e e n d o f o n e p a r t i c u l a r a c t i o n .
It is s e l f - d e c e p t i o n of c o u r s e ;
T h e r e i s n o i m m u n i t y i n this island e i t h e r ;
A c a r t t h a t i s d r a w n b y s o m e b o d y else's h o r s e
A n d c a r r y i n g g o o d s t o s o m e b o d y else's m a r k e t .
T h e b o m b s i n t h e t u r n i p sack, t h e s n i p e r f r o m t h e roof,
G r i f f i t h , C o n n o l l y , C o l l i n s , w h e r e h a v e t h e y b r o u g h t us?
Ourselves alone! Let the r o u n d t o w e r stand aloof
In a w o r l d of bursting mortar!
Let the school-children fumble their sums
In a h a l f - d e a d l a n g u a g e ;
Let t h e c e n s o r b e busy o n t h e b o o k s ; pull d o w n t h e G e o r g i a n
slums;
Let the games be played in Gaelic.
L e t t h e m g r o w b e e t - s u g a r ; let t h e m b u i l d
A f a c t o r y in e v e r y h a m l e t ;
L e t t h e m p i g e o n - h o l e t h e souls o f t h e killed
I n t o s h e e p and goats, patriots and traitors.
A n d t h e N o r t h , w h e r e I w.is a b o y .
Is still t h e N o r t h , v e n e e r e d w i t h t h e g r i m e ol ( S l a s g o w ,

HI I
 T h o u s a n d s o f m e n w h o m n o b o d y will e m p l o y
Standing at the corners, coughing.
And t h e s t r e e t - c h i l d r e n play o n t h e w e t
P a v e m e n t - h o p s c o t c h or marbles;
A n d e a c h r i c h family b o a s t s a s a g g i n g t e n n i s - n e t
On a spongy lawn beside a dripping shrubbery.
The s m o k i n g c h i m n e y s h i n t
At prosperity round the corner
I hit t h e y m a k e their U l s t e r l i n e n from foreign lint
And the m o n e y that c o m e s in goes out to m a k e m o r e m o n e
A city built u p o n m u d ;
A culture built u p o n profit;
Free speech n i p p e d in t h e b u d ,
The m i n o r i t y always guilty.
W h y should I want to go back
To y o u , Ireland, my Ireland? |
The b l o t s o n t h e p a g e are s o b l a c k
That they cannot be covered with shamrock.
I h a t e y o u r g r a n d i o s e airs,
Y o u r sob-stuff, y o u r l a u g h a n d y o u r s w a g g e r ,
Y o u r a s s u m p t i o n that e v e r y o n e cares
W h o i s t h e k i n g o f y o u r castle.
( astles a r e o u t o f d a t e ,
T h e t i d e f l o w s r o u n d t h e c h i l d r e n ' s s a n d y fancy;
P u t u p w h a t flag y o u l i k e , i t i s t o o late
T o save y o u r s o u l w i t h b u n t i n g .
( hli atque amo:
Shall w e c u t this n a m e o n t r e e s w i t h a r u s t y d a g g e r ?
\ l lei m o u n t a i n s are still b l u e , h e r r i v e r s f l o w
Bubbling over the boulders.
S h e is b o t h a b o r e a n d a b i t c h ;
Better close t h e h o r i z o n ,
S e n d h e r n o m o r e fantasy, n o m o r e l o n g i n g s w h i c h
A r c u n d e r a fatal tariff.
I 0 1 c o m m o n sense i s t h e v o g u e
A n d s h e gives h e r c h i l d r e n n e i t h e r s e n s e n o r m o n e y
W h o slouch around the world with a gesture and a b r o g u e
A n d a faggot of useless m e m o r i e s .

HI
 MEETING POINT

T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else,
T h e r e w e r e t w o glasses a n d t w o c h a i r s
A n d t w o p e o p l e w i t h the o n e pulse
( S o m e b o d y s t o p p e d t h e m o v i n g stairs):
T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else.

A n d they were neither up nor d o w n ;

T h e stream's music did not stop
Flowing through heather, limpid b r o w n ,
A l t h o u g h t h e y sat in a coffee s h o p
And they were neither up nor d o w n .

T h e bell w a s silent i n t h e air

H o l d i n g its i n v e r t e d p o i s e -
B e t w e e n t h e clang and clang a flower,
A brazen calyx of no noise:
T h e b e l l w a s silent i n t h e air.

T h e camels crossed the miles of sand

T h a t stretched a r o u n d the cups a n d plates;
T h e desert was their o w n , they planned
T o p o r t i o n o u t t h e stars a n d d a t e s :
T h e camels crossed the miles of sand.

T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else.
T h e waiter did n o t c o m e , the clock
Forgot t h e m and the radio waltz
C a m e o u t like w a t e r from a rock:
T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else.

H e r fingers flicked a w a y t h e ash

T h a t b l o o m e d again in tropic trees:
N o t c a r i n g i f t h e m a r k e t s crash
W h e n t h e y h a d forests s u c h a s t h e s e ,
H e r fingers f l i c k e d a w a y t h e ash.

G o d or whatever means the G o o d

B e praised that t i m e can s t o p like t h i s .
That w h a t the- heart lias u n d e r s t o o d

H:
 C a n verify i n t h e b o d y ' s p e a c e
G o d or whatever means the Good.

T i m e was a w a y and she was h e r e

A n d life n o l o n g e r w h a t i t w a s ,
T h e b e l l w a s silent i n t h e air
A n d all t h e r o o m o n e g l o w b e c a u s e
T i m e was a w a y and she was h e r e .

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

In my c h i l d h o o d trees w e r e g r e e n
A n d there was plenty to be seen.

Come back early or never come.

M y f a t h e r m a d e t h e walls r e s o u n d ,
H e w o r e his c o l l a r t h e w r o n g w a y r o u n d .

Come back early or never come.

M y m o t h e r w o r e a y e l l o w dress;
Gently, gently, gentleness.

Come back early or never come.

W h e n I w a s five t h e b l a c k d r e a m s c a m e ;
N o t h i n g after w a s q u i t e t h e s a m e .

Come hack early or never come.

T h e dark was talking to the dead;

T h e lamp was dark beside my bed.

Come back early or never come.

W h e n I w o k e they did not care;

N o b o d y , n o b o d y was t h e r e .

H \
 MEETING P O I N T

T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else,
T h e r e w e r e t w o glasses a n d t w o c h a i r s
A n d t w o p e o p l e w i t h the o n e pulse
( S o m e b o d y s t o p p e d t h e m o v i n g stairs):
T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else.

A n d they were neither up nor d o w n ;

T h e stream's music did n o t stop
Flowing through heather, limpid b r o w n ,
A l t h o u g h t h e y sat in a coffee s h o p
A n d they were neither up nor d o w n .

T h e bell w a s silent i n t h e air

H o l d i n g its i n v e r t e d p o i s e -
B e t w e e n the clang and clang a flower,
A brazen calyx of no noise:
T h e b e l l w a s silent i n t h e air.

T h e camels crossed t h e miles of sand

T h a t stretched a r o u n d the cups and plates;
T h e desert was their o w n , they planned
T o p o r t i o n o u t t h e stars a n d d a t e s :
T h e camels crossed the miles of sand.

T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else.
T h e waiter did n o t c o m e , the clock
Forgot t h e m and the radio waltz
C a m e o u t like w a t e r from a rock:
T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else.

H e r fingers f l i c k e d a w a y t h e ash
T h a t b l o o m e d again i n t r o p i c t r e e s :
N o t c a r i n g i f t h e m a r k e t s crash
W h e n t h e y h a d forests s u c h a s t h e s e ,
H e r fingers f l i c k e d a w a y t h e ash.

G o d or whatever means the G o o d

B e p r a i s e d t h a t t i m e can s t o p like t i n s .
That what the heart has understood

M !
 C a n verify i n t h e b o d y ' s p e a c e
G o d or whatever means the Good.

T i m e was away and she was here

A n d life n o l o n g e r w h a t i t w a s ,
T h e bell w a s s i l e n t i n t h e air
A n d all t h e r o o m o n e g l o w b e c a u s e
T i m e was a w a y a n d she was h e r e .

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

In my c h i l d h o o d trees w e r e g r e e n
And there was plenty to be seen.

Come back early or never come.

M y f a t h e r m a d e t h e walls r e s o u n d ,
H e w o r e his c o l l a r t h e w r o n g w a y r o u n

Come back early or never come.

M y m o t h e r w o r e a y e l l o w dress;
Gently, gently, gentleness.

Come back early or never come.

W h e n I w a s five t h e b l a c k d r e a m s c a m e
N o t h i n g after w a s q u i t e t h e s a m e .

Come back early or never come.

T h e dark was talking to t h e dead;

T h e lamp was dark beside m y b e d .

( lome back early or never conic.

W h e n I w o k e t h e y did n o t c a r e ;
N o b o d y , n o b o d y was t h e r e .

Ml
 Come back early or never come.

W h e n m y silent t e r r o r cried,
N o b o d y , n o b o d y replied.

Come back early or never come.

I got u p ; t h e chilly sun

Saw me walk away alone.

Come back early or never come.

T H E LIBERTINE
I n t h e o l d days w i t h m a r r i e d w o m e n ' s s t o c k i n g s
T w i s t e d r o u n d his b e d p o s t h e felt h i m s e l f a gay
D o g b u t n o w his l i v e r has b e g u n t o g r o a n ,
N o w that p i c k - u p s are t h e o r d e r o f the day:
O l e a v e m e easy, l e a v e m e a l o n e .

V o l u p t u a r y i n his ' t e e n s a n d c y n i c i n his t w e n t i e s ,

H e ran t h r o u g h w o m e n like a child t h r o u g h g r o w i n g
L o o k i n g for a lost t o y w h o s e c a p t u r e m i g h t a t o n e
F o r his o w n g u i l t a n d t h e c o s m i c disarray:
O l e a v e m e easy, l e a v e m e a l o n e .

H e n e v e r f o u n d t h e t o y a n d has f o r g o t t e n t h e faces,
O n l y r e m e m b e r s the p r o p s . . . a scent-spray
Beside the bed or a m i l k - w h i t e telephone
O r t h r o u g h t h e t r i p l e n i n o n t h e acrid t r i c k l e o f d a y :
O l e a v e m e easy, l e a v e m e a l o n e .

I L o n g fingers o v e r t h e g u n w a l e , h a i r i n a h a i r - n e t ,
F u r s i n J a n u a r y , c a r t w h e e l hats i n M a y ,
A n d after t h e e v e n t t h e w i s h t o b e a l o n e -
A n g e l s , g o d d e s s e s , b i t c h e s , all h a v e e d g e d a w a y :
O l e a v e m e easy, l e a v e m e a l o n e .
 S o n o w , i n m i d d l e a g e , his e r o t i c p r o g r a m m e
T o r n i n t w o , i f after s u c h a d e l a y
A n a c c i d e n t s h o u l d offer h i m his o w n
F u l f i l m e n t i n a w o m a n , still h e w o u l d say:
O l e a v e m e easy, l e a v e m e a l o n e .

WESTERN LANDSCAPE

I n d o g g e r e l a n d s t o u t let m e h o n o u r this c o u n t r y
I ' l i o u g h t h e air i s s o soft t h a t i t s m u d g e s t h e w o r d s
A n d h e r d s o f g r e a t c l o u d s f i n d t h e gaps i n t h e f e n c e s
( )f chance preconceptions and foam-quoits on rock-points
A t o n c e h i t a n d miss, h i t a n d m i s s .
S t > t h e kiss o f t h e past i s n a r c o t i c , t h e o c e a n
I o l l i n g l y lullingly over-insidiously
t )ver a n d u n d e r crossing t h e eyes
And docking the queues of the t e e t o t u m consciousness
Proves and disproves w h a t it wants.
For the western climate is L e t h e ,
I h e s m o k y taste o f c o o k i n g o n t u r f i s l o t u s ,
T h e r e are affirmation a n d a b n e g a t i o n t o g e t h e r
f r o m t h e b r o k e n b o g w i t h its v e i n s o f a m b e r w a t e r ,
F r o m t h e d i s t a n t h e a d l a n d , a s p h i n x ' s fist, t h a t b a r e l y g r i p s t h e sea,
From the taut-necked donkey's neurotic-asthmatic-erotic
lamenting,
From the heron in trance and in half-mourning,
I i » i n the m i t r e d m o u n t a i n w e e p i n g shale.

( ) grail of e m e r a l d p a s s i n g l i g h t
And h a n g i n g smell of sweetest hay
A m i g r a i n o f sea a n d l o o m o f w i n d
Weavingly laughingly leavingly weepingly -
W e b s that will last a n d w i l l n o t .
Hut w h a t
I s t h e h o l d u p o n , t h e affinity w i t h
< Kirselves ol s u c h a light a n d l i n e ,
I l o w d o w e find c o n t i n u a n c e
t >l o u t it'ii h u m a n s k e i n s ol w i s h
I n i I n s i n h u m a n effluent c

MS
O r e l e v a n c e of c l o u d a n d r o c k -
If such could be our p e r m a n e n c e !
T h e flock o f m o u n t a i n s h e e p b e l o n g
T o t u m b l e d s c r e e s , t o t u m b l i n g seas
T h e r i b b o n e d w r a c k , and m o o r t o mist;
[But w e w h o s a v o u r l o n g i n g l y
This plenitude of solitude
H a v e lost t h e r i g h t t o r e s i d e n c e ^
C a n only glean e p h e m e r a l
Ears o f o u r o n c e b e a t i t u d e .
C a r e s s i n g l y cajolingly -
T a k e w h a t y o u c a n for s o o n y o u g o -
Consolingly, coquettishly,
T h e soft r a i n kisses a n d f o r g e t s ,
Silken m e s h o n skin a n d m i n d ;
A d e a f - d u m b siren t h a t c a n s i n g
W i t h f i n g e r t i p s h e r falsities,
Welcoming, abandoning.

O B r a n d a n , spindrift h e r m i t , w h o
Hankering roaming un-homing up-anchoring
F r o m this r o c k w a l l l o o k e d s e a w a r d s t o
K n o t the h o r i z o n r o u n d y o u r waist,
Distil that distance a n d u n d o
T i m e in quintessential West:
T h e best negation, r o u n d as n o u g h t ,
Stiller t h a n s t o l e n s l e e p - t h o u g h b o u g h t
W i t h mortification, voiceless choir
W h e r e all w e r e silent a s o n e m a n
A n d all d e s i r e fulfilled, u n s o u g h t .
Thought:
T h e curragh w e n t over the wave and dipped in the trough
W h e n t h a t h o r n y - h a n d e d saint w i t h t h e a b s t r a c t e y e set off
W h i c h w a s f o u r t e e n h u n d r e d years a g o - m a y b e n e v e r -
A n d y e t h e b o b s b e y o n d t h a t n e x t h i g h crest for e v e r .
Feeling:
Sea m e t s k y , h e h a d n e i t h e r f l o o r n o r c e i l i n g ,
T h e r i s i n g b l u e o f t u r f - s m o k e a n d m o u n t a i n w e r e left b e h i n d ,
B l u e n e i t h e r t i p p e d n o r d o w n e d , t h e r e w a s b l u e all r o u n d t h e
mind.
Emotion:

Hi,
 O n e t h o u g h t o f G o d , o n e feeling o f the o c e a n ,
fused in the m o v i n g b o d y , the u n m o v e d soul,
M a d e h i m a part of a n o t to be parted w h o l e .
Whole.
A n d t h e W e s t w a s all t h e w o r l d , t h e l o n e l y w a s t h e o n l y ,
T h e chosen - and there was no choice - the Best,
For the b e y o n d was here . ..

B u t for us n o w
[ T h e b e y o n d i s still o u t t h e r e a s o n t i p t o e s h e r e w e s t a n d
( ) n p r o m o n t o r i e s t h a t are t h e m s e l v e s a - t i p t o e
R e l u c t a n t t o b e l a n d . W h i c h i s w h y this l a n d
Is a l w a y s m o r e t h a n m a t t e r - as a b a l l e t
Dancer is m o r e than body. T h e west of Ireland
Is b r u t e a n d ghost at once.j T h e r e f o r e in passing
A m o n g t h e s e s h a d o w s o f this p e r m a n e n t s h o w
Flitting evolving dissolving b u t n e v e r q u i t t i n g -
This arbitrary and necessary N a t u r e
Both bountiful and callous, harsh and w h e e d l i n g -
Let n o w t h e v i s i t o r , a l t h o u g h d i s f r a n c h i s e d
In the constituencies of quartz and b o g - o a k
And ousted from the elemental congress,
I e t m e a t least i n t o k e n t h a t m y m o t h e r
Harth w a s a r o c k y e a r t h w i t h breasts u n c o v e r e d
T o s u c k l e solitary i n t e l l e c t s
And l i m b e r instincts,|jet m e , if a bastard
( h i t o f t h e W e s t b y u r b a n civilization^
( W h i c h u n w i s h e d father claims me - so I m u s t take
W h a t 1 c a n b e f o r e I g o ) let m e w h o a m n e i t h e r B r a n d a n
I i c e of all r o o t s n o r y e t a r o o t e d p e a s a n t ^
I I ere a d d o n e s t o n e to t h e i n d i f f e r e n t c a i r n . . .
W i t h a stone on the cairn, w i t h a w o r d on the w i n d , w i t h a
p r a y e r i n t h e flesh let m e h o n o u r this c o u n t r y .

HI
 from A U T U M N SEQUEL

from C A N T O XX

To Wales once m o r e , though not on holiday n o w ;

G l u e d t o m y seat, w h i r l e d d o w n a r u t h l e s s t r a c k
To Wales once m o r e , grasping a golden b o u g h ,

K e y to the misty west. I am wearing black

Shoes w h i c h I b o u g h t w i t h G w i l y m in R e g e n t Street
T o t r a v e l t o D r u m c l i f f i n , f i v e years b a c k ;

D r u m c l i f f w a s w e t , t h o s e n e w s h o e s c r a m p e d m y feet
A t Y e a t s ' s f u n e r a l ; t h e y are n o t s o s m a r t
N o r y e t s o t i g h t for G w i l y m ' s . F r o m m y seat

I see m y n i g h t - b o u n d d o u b l e , s l u m p e d a p a r t
On a c o n v e y o r belt that, decades high
I n e m p t i n e s s , c a n n e i t h e r s t o p n o r start

B u t j u s t m o v e s o n for e v e r till w e d i e .
It is t o o late for q u e s t i o n s ; on this b e l t
We c a n n o t a n s w e r w h a t we are or w h y . . .

T h e n o n t o S w a n s e a for t h e n i g h t , b e n i g h t e d
In black and b a r r e n rain. B u t night m u s t e n d ,
A n d e n d i n g banishes the rain. D e l i g h t e d

M o r n i n g e r u p t s t o bless all W a l e s a n d s e n d
U s w e s t o n c e m o r e o u r sad b u t sunlit w a y
T h r o u g h hills o f r u d d y b r a c k e n w h e r e e a c h b e n d

I n t h e r o a d i s a n o t h e r s m i l e o n t h e face o f d a y .
W e s t o p a t r a n d o m for a m o r n i n g d r i n k
In a t h a t c h e d i n n ; to find, as at a p l a y ,

T h e bar already l o u d w i t h chatter and clink

O f glasses; n o t s o r a n d o m ; n o o n e h e r e
B u t was a friend of G w i l y m ' s . O n e c o u l d t h i n k

T h a t all t h e s e s h o t s o f w h i s k y , p i n t s o l b e e r ,
M a k e o n e Pactolus t u r n i n g words to gold
In h o n o u r of o n e golden m o u t h , in sheer

HH
Rebuttal of the silence a n d the cold
A t t a c h e d t o d e a t h . T h e r i v e r rolls o n w e s t
A s p r o u d a n d clear a s its b e s t years h a v e r o l l e d

A n d lands u s a t t h e v i l l a g e , w h i c h i s d r e s s e d
In one uncanny quiet and one kind
B l u e sky, a n a t t i t u d e o f h o s t t o g u e s t

S a y i n g : C o m e s h a r e m y grief. W e w a l k b e h i n d
T h e s l o w g r e a t h e a p s o f f l o w e r s , t h e small a u s t e r e
A n d single laurel w r e a t h . B u t t h e n u m b e d m i n d

Fails t o a c c e p t s u c h w o r d s a s t e m p t t h e e a r -
T h e R e s u r r e c t i o n a n d t h e Life; i t k n o w s
O n l y that G w i l y m o n c e was living here

A n d here is n o w being buried. A repose

O f s u n l i g h t lies o n t h e g r e e n s l o p i n g field
W h i c h s h o u l d h o l d g o a t s o r g e e s e . M y fingers c l o s e

O n w h a t g r e e n t h o u g h t s this a c r e still c a n y i e l d
Before we leave that d e e p , that n o t green, grave,
T h a t letter to be superscribed and sealed

N o w t h a t i t has n o c o n t e n t s ; w i n d a n d w a v e
R e t a i n far m o r e o f G w i l y m . W h a t h e t o o k
F r o m this small c o r n e r o f W a l e s s u r v i v e s i n w h a t h e g a v e .

T h e g r e e n field e m p t i e s , w i t h o n e t e n t a t i v e l o o k
Backwards we m o v e away, and then walk d o w n
T o w h e r e h e l i v e d o n a cliff; a n o p e n b o o k

O f sands a n d w a t e r s , silver a n d s h i n i n g b r o w n ,
I lis e s t u a r y s p r e a d s b e f o r e us a n d its b i r d s
T o w h i c h h e g a v e r e n o w n reflect r e n o w n

( ) n h i m , t h e i r cries r e s o l v e i n t o his w o r d s
fust as, u p o n t h e r i g h t . Sir J o h n ' s j u s t hill
I o o k s n o w , a n d justly, G w i l y m ' s . W e l e a v e t h e c u r d s

A n d ( l i m p s o l Mats a n d < h a n n e l s a n d t h r o u g h t h e still

E v e n i n g rejoin the m o u r n e r s . If a birth
E x t e n d s a family circle a n d glasses fill

C o n f i r m i n g its u n i q u e n e s s a n d t h e w o r t h
O f life, I t h i n k a d e a t h t o o d o e s t h e s a m e ,
Confirming and extending. Earth to earth,

B u t t o t h e w h o l e o f it. I n G w i l y m ' s n a m e
W e talk a n d e v e n l a u g h , t h o u g h n o w a n d t h e n
Illusions (surely illusions?) rise, t o s h a m e

M y r e a s o n . T h r e e illusions. O n e : t h a t w h e n
W e left t h a t grassy f i e l d , w e also left
G w i l y m b e h i n d t h e r e , if n o t able to p e n

O n e w o r d , y e t a b l e p e r h a p s t o feel b e r e f t
O r m a y b e t o feel p l e a s e d t h a t s u c h a p l a c e
R e m a i n s t o h i m . T h e n w a s i t gift o r t h e f t ,

T h i s b u r i a l ? M o r e r a t i o n a l t h o u g h t s efface
S u c h w h i m s , b u t t h e s e c o n d illusion c o m e s : p e r h a p s
G w i l y m has s l i p p e d off s o m e w h e r e , i n t o t h e g r a c e

O f s o m e afterlife w h e r e free f r o m toils a n d traps

H e r e v e l s for e v e r i n w o r d s . T h e s e fancies t o o
F l i c k e r like W i l l o ' t h e W i s t f u l s , a n d c o l l a p s e ;

S i n c e , e v e n i f a n afterlife w e r e t r u e ,
G w i l y m w i t h o u t his b o d y , his b o o m i n g v o i c e ,
W o u l d simply n o t be G w i l y m . As I or you

W o u l d not be I or you and, given the choice,

I , for o n e , w o u l d r e j e c t it. Last, t h e t h i r d
Illusion, w h i c h gives reason to rejoice

Or rather strong unreason: what we have heard

A n d s e e n t o d a y m e a n s n o t h i n g , this c r o w d e d b a r
W a s o n e of G w i l y m ' s favourites, it is absurd

H e s h o u l d n o t j o i n u s h e r e , i t was a l w a y s g o i n g t o o
T o e x p e c t h i m o n t h e d o t b u t , late o r s o o n ,
I [c will t o m e jaunting, in, especially as t h e r e are

•in
S o m a n y o f his friends h e r e t o b u f f o o n
A n d sparkle w i t h . H o w e v e r , i f n o t t o n i g h t ,
W e n e e d n o t w a i t for l e a p y e a r o r b l u e m o o n

B e f o r e w e r u n across h i m . M o o n s are w h i t e
In L o n d o n as in Wales and by t o m o r r o w
W e shall b e b a c k i n L o n d o n w h e r e t h e s i g h t

A n d s o u n d o f h i m will b e w e l c o m e , h e m a y b o r r o w
A p o u n d or t w o of course or keep us waiting
B u t w h a t a b o u t it? I n t h o s e streets o f s o r r o w

A n d e v e n m o r e o f b o r e d o m , his e l a t i n g
E l a t e d p r e s e n c e b r i n g s a sluice of fresh
W a t e r into d i m ponds t o o long stagnating.

T h i s is t h e t h i r d i l l u s i o n , a fine m e s h
Of probable impossibles; of course,
O f c o u r s e , w e t h i n k , w e shall m e e t h i m i n t h e flesh

T o m o r r o w o r t h e n e x t d a y , i n full f o r c e
O f flesh a n d w i t a n d h e a r t . W e close t h e d o o r
On Wales and backwards, eastwards, from the source

O f s u c h clear w a t e r , l e a v e t h a t a l t e r e d s h o r e
O f gulls a n d p s a l m s , o f g r e e n a n d g o l d largesse.
N o v e m b e r t h e T w e n t y - f i f t h . W e are b a c k o n c e m o r e

In L o n d o n . A n d will he k e e p us w a i t i n g ? . . . Y e s .

from A H A N D OF SNAPSHOTS

THE ONCE-IN-PASSING

A n d h e r e t h e cross o n t h e w i n d o w m e a n s m y s e l f
But that w i n d o w d o e s n o t o p e n ;
B o r n h e r e , I s h o u l d h a v e p r o v e d a d i f f e r e n t self.
Sn< h V i s t . I S d a t e n o t o p e n ;
f i n w h a t i a n w a l k o r talk w i t h o u t t o n g u e o r feet?

91
 H e r e for a m o n t h t o s p e n d b u t n o t t o e a r n ,
H o w could I even imagine
S u c h a life h e r e t h a t m y p l a i n days c o u l d e a r n
T h e life m y d r e a m s i m a g i n e ?
F o r w h a t takes r o o t o r g r o w s that o w n s n o r o o t ?

Y e t h e r e for a m o n t h , a n d for this o n c e i n passing,

I c a n i m a g i n e at least
T h e p e r m a n e n c e o f w h a t passes,
As though the w i n d o w opened
A n d t h e a n c i e n t cross o n t h e hillside m e a n t myself.

HOUSE ON A CLIFF

I n d o o r s t h e t a n g o f a t i n y oil l a m p . O u t d o o r s
T h e w i n k i n g signal o n t h e w a s t e o f sea.
Indoors the sound of the wind. O u t d o o r s the wind.
I n d o o r s t h e l o c k e d h e a r t a n d t h e lost k e y .

O u t d o o r s t h e chill, t h e v o i d , t h e s i r e n . I n d o o r s
T h e s t r o n g m a n p a i n e d t o find his r e d b l o o d c o o l s ,
W h i l e t h e b l i n d c l o c k g r o w s l o u d e r , faster. O u t d o o r s
T h e silent m o o n , t h e g a r r u l o u s t i d e s s h e r u l e s .

I n d o o r s ancestral c u r s e - c u m - b l e s s i n g . O u t d o o r s
T h e empty bowl of heaven, the empty deep.
I n d o o r s a p u r p o s e f u l m a n w h o talks a t cross
P u r p o s e s , t o himself, i n a b r o k e n s l e e p .

SOAP SUDS

T h i s b r a n d o f s o a p has t h e s a m e s m e l l a s o n c e i n t h e b i g
H o u s e h e v i s i t e d w h e n h e w a s e i g h t : t h e walls o f t h e b a t h r o o m
open
T o r e v e a l a l a w n w h e r e a g r e a t y e l l o w ball rolls b a c k t h r o u g h
a hoop
To rest at t h e h e a d of a mallet h e l d in t h e h a n d s ot a c h i l d .

92
And these w e r e the joys of that house: a t o w e r w i t h a telescope;
T w o g r e a t f a d e d g l o b e s , o n e o f t h e e a r t h , o n e o f t h e stars;
A stuffed b l a c k d o g i n t h e hall; a w a l l e d g a r d e n w i t h b e e s ;
A r a b b i t w a r r e n ; a r o c k e r y ; a v i n e u n d e r glass; t h e sea.

T o w h i c h h e has n o w r e t u r n e d . T h e d a y o f c o u r s e i s fine
A n d a g r o w n - u p v o i c e cries Play! T h e m a l l e t s l o w l y s w i n g s ,
T h e n c r a c k , a g r e a t g o n g b o o m s f r o m t h e d o g - d a r k hall a n d t h e
ball
Skims forward t h r o u g h the h o o p and then t h r o u g h the next and
then

T h r o u g h h o o p s w h e r e n o h o o p s w e r e a n d e a c h dissolves i n t u r n
A n d t h e grass has g r o w n h e a d - h i g h a n d a n a n g r y v o i c e cries Play!
Hut t h e ball i s lost a n d t h e m a l l e t s l i p p e d l o n g s i n c e f r o m t h e
hands
I Inder the r u n n i n g tap that are n o t the h a n d s of a child.

T H E SUICIDE

A n d this, ladies a n d g e n t l e m e n , w h o m I a m n o t i n fact

< o n d u c t i n g , w a s his office all t h o s e m i n u t e s a g o ,
This m a n y o u n e v e r h e a r d of. T h e r e are t h e bills
I n t h e i n t r a y , t h e ash i n t h e a s h t r a y , t h e g r e y m e m o r a n d a s t a c k e d
Against h i m , t h e s e r r i e d r a n k s o f t h e b o x - f i l e s , t h e p a c k e d
I m y o f his u n a n s w e r e d c o r r e s p o n d e n c e
N o d d i n g under the paperweight in the breeze
I r o m t h e w i n d o w b y w h i c h h e left; a n d h e r e i s t h e c r a c k e d
l'< ( e i v e r t h a t n e v e r g o t m e n d e d a n d h e r e i s t h e j o t t e r
W i t h his last d o o d l e w h i c h m i g h t b e his o w n d i g e s t i v e t r a c t
I lit er a n d all or m i g h t be t h e f l o w e r y m a z e
I h r o u g h w h i c h h e h a d w a n d e r e d d e l i c i o u s l y till h e s t u m b l e d
S u d d e n l y finally c o n s c i o u s o f all h e l a c k e d
< >n a m a n h o l e u n d e r t h e h o l l y h o c k s . T h e p e n c i l
Poinl h a d o b v i o u s l y b r o k e n , y e t , w h e n h e left this r o o m
H\ < a t d r o p s l e i g h t - o f - f o o t or s i m p l e v a n i s h i n g a c t ,
I o l h o s e yvho k n e w h i m for all t h a t mess in t h e s t r e e t
I In. in.in w i t h t h e shy s m i l e has left b e h i n d
S o m e t h i n g that was inta< t

<> \
 STAR-GAZER

F o r t y - t w o y e a r s a g o (to m e i f t o n o o n e else
T h e n u m b e r i s o f s o m e i n t e r e s t ) i t w a s a b r i l l i a n t starry n i g h t
A n d t h e w e s t w a r d train was e m p t y and h a d n o corridors
S o d a r t i n g f r o m side t o side I c o u l d c a t c h t h e u n w o n t e d sight
Of those almost intolerably bright
H o l e s , p u n c h e d i n t h e sky, w h i c h e x c i t e d m e p a r t l y b e c a u s e
Of their Latin n a m e s and partly because I had read in the
textbooks
H o w v e r y far off t h e y w e r e , i t s e e m e d t h e i r l i g h t
H a d left t h e m ( s o m e a t least) l o n g years b e f o r e I w a s .

A n d this r e m e m b e r i n g n o w I m a r k t h a t w h a t
L i g h t w a s l e a v i n g s o m e o f t h e m a t least t h e n ,
F o r t y - t w o years a g o , w i l l n e v e r a r r i v e
I n t i m e for m e t o c a t c h it, w h i c h l i g h t w h e n
I t d o e s g e t h e r e m a y find t h a t t h e r e i s n o t
A n y o n e left alive
T o r u n f r o m side t o side i n a late n i g h t t r a i n
A d m i r i n g it and adding n o u g h t s in vain.
 D E N I S D E V L I N

Born G r e e n o c k , Scotland, of Irish parents, 1908. Lived Dublin,

1920-30. Educated at Belvedere College and University College
I )ublin. Travelled widely in E u r o p e , 1 9 3 0 - 3 , studying in M u n i c h and
Pans. Lectured in English at UCD before j o i n i n g Irish diplomatic service,
1935. Posted to R o m e (1938), N e w York (1939), W a s h i n g t o n (1940)
and L o n d o n (1947). Minister plenipotentiary to Italy, 1950, and
T u r k e y , 1951. Ambassador to Italy, 1958. D i e d D u b l i n , 1959.

I )evlin's p o e m s have b e e n c h a m p i o n e d by such Irish admirers as Brian

Coffey, Samuel Beckett, T h o m a s Kinsella and J o h n M o n t a g u e , and by
Allen T a t e and Robert P e n n W a r r e n in the U n i t e d States. O t h e r readers
have found t h e m stilted and showy. Manifestly ambitious, his w o r k has a
tendency to lapse into bathos: it is arguable that he only intennittently
achieved a style that fully a c c o m m o d a t e d his intellectual interests. T h e
four selected pieces reveal Devlin's characteristic c o n c e r n with exile
as the true condition of h u m a n life, and with the inscrutable
nature of sexual and divine love.

A N K ' H O R VAT

T h e a n t l e r e d forests
M o v e d o w n t o t h e sea.
H e r e the dung-filled j u n g l e pauses

B u d d h a has c o v e r e d t h e walls o f t h e g r e a t t e m p l e
W i t h t h e v e g e t a t i v e s p e e d o f his i m a g e r y

Let u s w a i t , h a n d i n h a n d

N o W e s t e r n g o d o r saint
E v e r s m i l e d w i t h t h e lissom fury o f this g o d
W h o holds in d o u b t
T h e w o o d e n stare o f A p o l l o
( )ui ( Christian c r o w n of t h o r n s :

95
 T h e r e is no m y s t e r y in t h e l u m i n o u s lines
O f t h a t h i g h , a n i m a l face
T h e s m i l e , sad, h u m o u r i n g a n d e q u a l
Blesses w i t h o u t o b l i g i n g
Loves w i t h o u t condescension;
T h e g o d , clear a s s p r i n g - w a t e r
Sees t h r o u g h e v e r y t h i n g , w h i l e e v e r y t h i n g
Flows through him

A fling of flowers h e r e
W h o s e names I do not k n o w
D o w n y , scarlet g u l l e t s
G r e e n legs y i e l d i n g a n d c l o s i n g

W h i l e , at my m e n t a l distance from passion,

T h e prolific d i v i n i t y o f t h e t e m p l e
Is a q u i e t l e t t e r i n g on v e l l u m .

L e t u s lie d o w n b e f o r e h i m
H i s l o o k w i l l f l o w l i k e oil o v e r u s .

LITTLE ELEGY

I will walk w i t h a lover of w i s d o m

A s m i l e for S e n a t o r D e s t i n y
B u t I shall g l a d l y l i s t e n .

H e r b e a u t y w a s like s i l e n c e i n a c u p o f w a t e r
D e c a n t i n g all b u t t h e d r e a m m a t t e r .
T h e figures o f r e a l i t y
S t o o d a b o u t , D a n t e s q u e a n d pitiful.
C a n a n y o n e tell m e h e r n a m e ?
I will l o v e h e r a g a i n a n d again
G i r l o n skis, a r r o w a n d b o w i n o n e ,
M a s k e d i n glass, g r a c e f u l ,
H a r d as a w o r d in s e a s o n .

I saw a r o u n d , B a v a r i a n g o o d m a n
And a I larvard student w i t h a MOIIK art's l o p e

%
Colliding with h u g e nosegays
T h e n laughter burst above their flowers:
Absent of m i n d , they had their wits a b o u t t h e m
I laughed at t h e m b o t h outright

A n d at s i m p e r i n g , peasant statues
Graces and gods w o u l d they be!
It was a h e a d y s p r i n g t i m e in M u n i c h
M a n y I k n e w confided in me
P o p u , t h e c h a m p i o n cyclist
S i g m u n d , deriding tyrants
A n d C a r l o s , w h o m a d e l o v e shyly
T o a f u r t i v e , g e n t l e girl
And came to my door, stammering,
'She loves m e , y o u k n o w . '
'She loves m e , y o u k n o w . '

But geography separated t h e m

A n d g e o g r a p h y k e e p s t h e m apart
N o w t h e y live f o r g o t t e n i n e a c h o t h e r ' s h e a r t .

II

T h e s u n w a s full o n , t h e b i r d - b r e e d
Gradually found their wings.
T h e b a r o q u e c h u r c h e s g l o w e d like t h e B o o k o f Kells.
We t w o , with butterbrot and sweetmilk
O v e r the s n o w beneath blue winds
W e n t far a n d w i d e .
B u s y , a l o n e , w e all g o far a n d w i d e
W h o o n c e listened to each other's
Fair v o w s a n d c o u n s e l .

( ) f t h o s e t h a t g o o u t o f t h e cafes a n d t h e g a r d e n s
S o m e lie in p r i s o n s
S o m e die o l u n h a p p i n e s s
I I I I 1 ( 1 ( 1 , it is so!

T h i s is ill I can r e m e m b e r
Q u a r r e l l i n g , gusts o l c o n f i d e n c e
I I K I lass ( l i m b i n g t l u o u g l i l.um n i g h t s
 A n d her I would meet
As t h o u g h I w e r e unconscious
I n v a c a n t , b r i g h t - c o l u m n e d streets
A n d beings in love's tunic scattered to the four winds
F o r n o r e a s o n a t all
F o r n o r e a s o n t h a t I c a n tell.

from MEMOIRS OF A T U R C O M A N DIPLOMAT

O T E L I ASIA PALAS, I N C .

E v e n i n g s e v e r m o r e w i l l i n g lapse i n t o m y w o r l d ' s e v e n i n g ,
Birds, like Imperial e m b l e m s , in their thin, abstract singing,
A n n o u n c e s o m e lofty M a j e s t y w h o s e e m b a s s i e s are n o t
understood,
T h r u s h e s ' a n d f i n c h e s ' c h o r d s , like t h e y e l l o w a n d b l u e skies
changing place.
I h o l d m y stick, o l d - w o r l d , t h e w a i t e r s k n o w m e ,
A n d sip a t m y E u r o p e a n d r i n k , w h i l e s u n l i g h t falls,
L i k e t h i c k Italian silks o v e r t h e s q u a r e h o u s e s i n t o t h e B o s p h o r u s .
L a d i e s , I call y o u w o m e n n o w , f r o m o u t m y e m p t i e d t e n d e r n e s s ,
All d e a d i n t h e w a r s , b e f o r e a n d after w a r ,
I toast y o u m y a d v e n t u r e s w i t h y o u r b e a u t y !
W h e r e t h e d o m e s o f S i n a n s h i v e r like d u c t i l e v i o l e t s i n t h e rain
of light.

T o t h e F r a n k s , I s u p p o s e it's u g l y , this b r i c k a n d o b l o n g ,
W h e n a rare sunlight, rare birdsong,
C o m p o s e t h e a b s o l u t e k i n g d o m far i n t h e sky
T h e F r a n k s m u s t ask h o w i t w a s k n o w n , h o w r e a c h e d , h o w
g o v e r n e d , h o w let d i e ?

T h i s w o m a n w h o passes b y , s i d e w a y s , b y y o u r side:
T h e r e w a s o n e y o u l o v e d for years a n d y e a r s ;
S u d d e n l y t h e j a w i s u g l y , t h e s h o u l d e r s fall,
P r o v o k i n g b u t r e s e n t m e n t , h a r d l y tears.

<>H
 RENEWAL BY HER ELEMENT

The hawthorn morning moving

Above the battlements,
Breast from breast of lover
Tears, r e m i n d s of difference
A n d body's raggedness.

I m m u n e from resolution
I n t o c o m m o n clay
Because I have not k n o w n you;
S e l f - c o n t e n t as b i r d s o n g
Scornful at n i g h t - b r e a k a g e
Y o u seem to m e . I am
Fresh from a l o n g absence.

O s u a v e t h r o u g h s u r f lifting
M y smile u p o n y o u r m o u t h ;
Limbs according to rhythm
Separating, closing;
Scarcely using m y n a m e ,
Traveller t h r o u g h troubling gestures,
O n l y for r a r e e m b r a c e s
Of prepared texture.
Y o u r lips a m u s e d h a r d e n
M y arms r o u n d y o u defiant,
Y o u shirk m y e n w r e a t h i n g
Language, and y o u smile,
T u r n i n g aside m y h a n d
T h r o u g h y o u r b r e a t h ' s l i g h t leafage,
Preferring yourself reflected
In my body to me,
Preferring my image of y o u
To you w h o m I achieved.
Noise is c u r b e d attentive,
T h e sea h a n g s o n y o u r lips:
W h a t w o u l d 1 d o less?

It is o v e r n o w but o n c e
( >111 fees w e r e nothing m o r e ,
Eat I i l " i use " I t h e o t h e i

99
In m o r t g a g e , t h a n a glance.
I k n e w the secret m o v e m e n t s
Of the blood under your throat
A n d w h e n w e lay l o v e - p r o v e n
W h i s p e r i n g legends to sleep
Braceleted in embrace
Y o u r hands pouring on me
F r e s h w a t e r o f t h e i r caresses,
Breasts, nests o f m y t e n d e r n e s s ,
All n i g h t w a s l a c e d w i t h p r a i s e .

N o w m y i m a g e faded
I n t h e l u c i d fields
O f y o u r eyes. N e v e r again
S u r p r i s e for y e a r s , y e a r s .

My landscape is grey rain

A s l a n t o n b e n t seas.
 W . R . R O D G E R S

Born Belfast, 1909. Educated at Q u e e n ' s University Belfast and the

Presbyterian Theological College. O r d a i n e d 1935 and appointed
minister in Loughall, C o u n t y Armagh. I n t r o d u c e d to m o d e r n poetry by
J o h n H e w i t t . Began writing, 1939. Resigned ministry and m o v e d to
London to w o r k in B B C features d e p a r t m e n t , 1946. Elected m e m b e r of
Irish A c a d e m y of Letters, 1951. Series of college appointments in
California from 1966. D i e d Los Angeles, 1969.

Rodgers's w o r k belongs to the N e w R o m a n t i c m o m e n t in British poetry

w h e n y o u n g e r writers reacted against w h a t they saw as the desiccating
ironies of T.S. Eliot's brand of m o d e r n i s m . A n d yet his verse has a
specific Irish context t o o : as a Presbyterian manifestation of what
Austin Clarke called ' o u r racial drama of conscience', it marks a
milestone in the conflict b e t w e e n sensuality and Christian asceticism
w h i c h runs from the dialogues of Oisin and Patrick in the Fenian cycle
to Kavanagh's 'Father Mat'. Like m a n y of Rodgers's early p o e m s ,
' S n o w ' celebrates sound and m o v e m e n t , relishing its o w n reckless
ebullience u n d e r the shadow of the e n c r o a c h i n g war. 'Lent' is o n e of a
n u m b e r of u n o r t h o d o x Christian meditations written after he left his
ministry. T h e o t h e r t w o p o e m s explore aspects of sexual love - a subject
to w h i c h Rodgers t u r n e d with the zeal of a convert.

SNOW

O u t o f t h e g r e y air g r e w s n o w a n d m o r e s n o w
Soundlessly in nomllions of flakes
C o m m i n g l i n g and sinking negligently
T o g r o u n d , soft a s f r o t h a n d easy a s ashes
Alighting, closing t h e ring of sight. A n d ,
Silting, it a u g m e n t e d e v e r y t h i n g
F u r r i n g t h e b a r e leaf, b l u r r i n g t h e t h o r n ,
Fluffing, t o o , t h e t e l e p h o n e - w i r e , p a d d i n g
All t h e p a t h s a n d b o o s t i n g b o o t s , a n d p u f f i n g
Big o v e r r i m s , like b o i l i n g m i l k , m e e k l y
I n d u l g i n g t h e b u l g i n g hill, a n d b o l d l y

MM
Bolstering the retiring hole, until
I t o w n e d a n d i n t e g r a t e d all. A n d t h e n
S n o w s t o p p e d , disclosing a n o n y m i t y
I m p o s e d , t h e b l a n k a n d b l o t l e s s sea i n w h i c h
B o t h dotted tree and dashing bird w e r e sunk,
A n d a n c h o r e d g r o u n d a n d r o c k i n g grass e n g r o s s e d .

A n d s o o n t h e k n o c k a n d hiss o f c i s t e r n c e a s e d a s
G r a d u a l l y w i t h i n k l i n g s a n d w r i n k l i n g strings
O f ice t h e t h i c k e n i n g c o l d a n c h o r e d t h e s k i n
A n d slow core of water, gluing and glossing
All leaks, n i g g l i n g o r g r e a t , n a k e d o r g u a r d e d .
L o n g s n a u g h t e r s o f ice a t t h e t a p ' s s n o u t h u n g
J a g g e d a n d stiff like s t r a w - e n d s this h a r d m o r n i n g .
At every vent things hesitated; here,
In c o n f o r m i n g holes a n d h u t s , t h e shy creatures
S h r a n k f r o m issuing, a n d , r o o t e d t o g e t h e r ,
S t o o d arrested and irresolute at doors,
P e p p e r i n g w i t h p e e p i n g s t h e s u r p r i s i n g fields -
F o x in knoll, fowl in h o u s e , heifer in hovel.
O n l y t h e bull, d u b i o u s a n d delicate, stalked
I n his p a d d o c k , distrust s p i k i n g his b l i n d steps.
H i s s p i n n i n g e y e , his s p o k e d g l a n c e s , g l i n t e d a n d
Tilted. His horn gored and scorned the ground, and scored
T h e o a k , a n d fans o f v a p o u r j e t t e d a n d j u m p e d
Stiffly f r o m nostrils, i n c e n s i n g t h e l o o s e s n o w
L i k e s m o k e , a n d p o w d e r i n g his k n e e s . N o i s i l y
O n t h e s l e e k e d lake o n l o o k e r s l i n g e r e d i n r i n g
R o u n d t h e single a n d d e f e r e n t s k a t e r l e a n -
i n g o v e r i n flight, l i k e grass s l a n t e d b y w i n d ,
F o o t - e n g r o s s e d , l o c k e d i n his o w n l o o k i n g - g l a s s
O f c o n s c i o u s j o y a n d e v i d e n t finery
O f m o v e m e n t , forgetful o f o u t e r v o i c e s .
Forgetful of v e n o m , of fame, of laughter,
O f flouting Evil and o f t o u t i n g G o o d that
W a i t e d w o o d e n l y for h i m l i k e t o r m e n t o r s
A t t h e e n d a n d e d g e o f his d r e a m , t o w a k e n
A n d c l a i m h i m . S o h e slid o n , a s w e all d o ,
Forgetting the m o r r o w , forgetting too
T h e m a r r o w o f w a t e r i n t h e b o n e o f ice
( I ike t h e w o r m i n t h e w o o d ) , t h e l i q u e f a c t i o n

102
 A n d f r i c t i o n i n all fixed t h i n g s , v i r t u e i n v i c e ,
T h e b o m b domanial in the d o m e of blue.

LENT

M a r y M a g d a l e n e , t h a t easy w o m a n ,
S a w , f r o m t h e s h o r e , t h e seas
B e a t against t h e h a r d s t o n e o f L e n t ,
C r y i n g , ' W e e p , seas, w e e p
For yourselves that cannot dent me m o r e .

' O m o r e t h a n all t h e s e , m o r e c r a b b e d t h a n all s t o n e s ,

A n d cold, m a k e m e , w h o once
C o u l d l e a p like w a t e r , L o r d . T a k e m e
As one w h o owes
N o t h i n g t o w h a t she was. A h , n a k e d .

' M y waves of scent, my petticoats of foam

Put from me and rebut;
D i s o w n . A n d t h a t salt lust stave off
T h a t s l a v e r e d me - O
L e t i t w h i t e n i n g r i e f against t h e s t o n e s

' A n d o u t e r reefs o f m e . U t t e r l y doff,

N o r l e a v e t h e l i g h t e s t veil
O f feeling t o h e a v e o r soften.
N o t h i n g cares this h e a r t
W h a t h a r d n e s s c r a t e s i t n o w o r coffins.

' O v e r t h e balconies o f these c u r v e d breasts

I'll n o m o r e p e e p t o s e e
T h e light p r o c e s s i o n o f m y l o v e s
Surf-riding in to me
W h o n o w h a v e e y e s a n d a l c o v e , L o r d , for T h e e . '

' R o o m , M a r y , ' said H e , 'ah m a k e r o o m for m e

W h o a m c o m e s o cold n o w
T o m y t o m b . ' So, o n G o o d Friday,
U n d e r a frosty m o o n
T h e y c a r r i e d H i m a n d laid H i m i n h e r w o m b .

A g r a v e a n d icy m a s k h e r h e a r t w o r e t w i c e ,
B u t on the third day it t h a w e d ,
A n d only a stone's-flow away
M a r y saw h e r G o d .
D i d y o u hear me? Mary saw her G o d !

D a n c e , M a r y M a g d a l e n e , d a n c e , d a n c e a n d sing,
For unto you is born
T h i s d a y a K i n g . ' L a d y , ' said H e ,
' T o you w h o relent
I bring back the petticoat and the bottle of scent.'

THE NET

Quick, w o m a n , in your net

C a t c h t h e silver I fling!
O I am d e e p in y o u r d e b t ,
D r a w tight, skin-tight, the string,
A n d r a k e t h e silver in.
N o fisher e v e r y e t
D r e w such a c u n n i n g ring.

A h , shifty as t h e fin
O f a n y fish this flesh
T h a t , shaken to the shin,
N o w shoals i n t o y o u r m e s h ,
B u r s t i n g t o b e h e l d in;
Purse-proud and pebble-hard,
Its p e n c e l i k e s h i n g l e s h o w e r e d .

O p e n the haul, and shake

T h e fill o f shillings free,
L e t all t h e satchels b r e a k
A n d leap a b o u t the k n e e
In shoals of ecstasy.

104
 G u i n e a s a n d gills will f l a k e
At each gull-plunge of m e .

T h o u g h all t h e a n g e l s , a n d
Saint M i c h a e l a t t h e i r h e a d ,
Nightly contrive to stand
On guard about your bed,
Y e t n o n e dare take a hand,
B u t each can only spread
His eagle-eye instead.

B u t I , b e i n g m a n , c a n kiss
And bed-spread-eagle too;
All f l e s h shall c o m e t o t h i s ,
B e i n g less t h a n a n g e l is,
Y e t h i g h e r far in bliss
As it entwines with you.

C o m e , make no sound, my sweet;

T u r n d o w n the candid lamp
A n d d r a w the equal quilt
O v e r o u r n a k e d guilt.

STORMY N I G H T

Is this t h e s t r e e t ? N e v e r a sign of life,

T h e swinging lamp throws everything about;
B u t see! f r o m t h a t sly d o o r w a y , like a k n i f e
T h e gilt e d g e o f i n v i t i n g l i g h t slides o u t
A n d i n again - t h e v e r y sign

O f h e r w h o s e slightest n o d I lately t h o u g h t w a s m i n e ;

But not n o w .
K n o c k ! a n d t h e n i g h t - f l o w e r i n g lady
O p e n s , a n d across t h e b r i l l i a n t sill
Sees m e s t a n d i n g t h e r e s o d a r k a n d s h a d y
1 l u g g i n g t h e s i l e n c e s o f m y ill-will;
W i l d l y s h e ( i n n s from m e But n o , m y l o v e .
This l o o t ' s w i t h i n the d o o i , this h a n d ' s w i t h o u t the glove
I OS
W e l l m a y y o u t r e m b l e n o w , a n d say t h e r e w a s n o t h i n g m e a n t ,
A n d curl away from my care w i t h a 'Please, my dear!',
For though you were smoke, sucked up by a raging vent,
I ' d f o l l o w y o u t h r o u g h e v e r y f l u e o f y o u r fear,
A n d o v e r y o u r faraway a r m s I'll m o u n t a i n a n d c o n e
I n a pillar o f c a r o l l i n g fire a n d f o u n t a i n i n g s t o n e .

O s t r i k e t h e g o n g o f y o u r w r o n g , raise t h e r o o f o f y o u r r a g e
Fist a n d foist m e off w i t h a c l o u d o f cries,
W h a t d o I c a r e for all y o u r f o o t l i n g r a m p a g e ?
O n y o u r l i g h t - i n - g a l e b l o w s m y l a r k i n g caresses w i l l rise,
B u t - W h y s o still? W h a t ? a r e y o u w e e p i n g , m y s w e e t ?
A h h e a r t , h e a r t , l o o k ! I t h r o w m y s e l f a t y o u r feet.

n id
 M Á I R T Í N Ó D I R E Á I N

Born Inishmore, Aran Islands, 1910. W o r k e d in Central Post Office,

(ialway, 1928-37. M o v e d to D u b l i n , w h e r e he was employed as a civil
servant until 1975. Began writing poetry in 1938, publishing nine
collections b e t w e e n 1942 and 1980. D.Litt. from National
University of Ireland, 1977. D i e d D u b l i n . 1988.

Uniquely a m o n g Irish-language poets of the m o d e r n era, O Direáin

grew up in a m o n o g l o t Gaelic e n v i r o n m e n t , learning English only in his
teens. His p o e m s typically view Inishmore from the vantage of m i d d l e -
class, A n g l o p h o n e , suburban Dublin, and contrast the material
i m p o v e r i s h m e n t of the o n e w i t h the spiritual privations of the other.
Small, rhythmically c u n n i n g lyrics of swift pace and e x t r e m e
compression, at their best they m a k e Aran a symbol of the lost unity of
modern life. T h e three p o e m s reprinted here c o m e from the 1950s. T h e
first t w o are perhaps the most forceful of O Direáin's direct evocations
of Inishmore. 'Cranna Foirtif combines m e m o r y , folklore, allusion,
neologisms, and b o t h colloquial and dictionary-drawn idioms in a
sombre but verbally playful meditation on the difficulty of maintaining
artistic integrity in a hostile culture.

107
 DEIREADH RÉ

Fir n a scéal m o lean!

Is an bás á l e a g a d h ,
M n á na seal á l e a n a c h t
Is m i s e fós ar m a r t h a i n
I mease na b p l ó d gan a i n m ,
G a n ' C é d h á r d í o b h é?' ar a m b é a l
N á fios m o s h l o i n n e a c u .

N í háil l i o m feasta d a r m ' a n a m

D á i m h a b h r ú ar c h l o c h a glasa!
N í fáilteach r o m h a m a n c h a r r a i g ,
Mé ar thóir m ' ó i g e ar bealach,
M é i m ' O i s í n a r n a craga,
Is fós ar fud an c h l a d a i g h ,
M é a g c a o i n e a d h slua n a m a r b h .

C U I M H N E AN D O M H N A I G H

C h í m grian a n D o m h n a i g h a g t a i t n e a m h
Anuas ar ghnúis an talaimh
San o i l e á n r ú i n t r á t h n ó n a ;
M ó r c h u i d cloch is g a n n c h u i d cré
Sin é teist an s c e i r d o i l e á i n ,
Dúthaigh dhearóil mo dhaoine.

C h í m m a r c h a i t h a n c h l o c h g a c h fear,
M a r lioc i n a c l ó féin é ,
Is c h í m an d r e a m a thréig go h é a g
C l o c h is c r é is d ú t h a i g h d h e a r ó i l ,
Is c h í m s e fós g a c h m á t h a i r faoi chás
Ag c e a p a d h a háil le d á n a c u i m h n e .
 ERA'S END

M y grief o n the m e n o f t h e stories

A n d t h e d e a t h t h a t fells t h e m !
T h e shawled w o m e n following
A n d I still alive
A n o n y m o u s amid the throng,
W i t h o u t ' W h o ' s h e ? ' o n t h e i r lips
Or knowledge of my surname.

N e v e r again will I try

T o press f r i e n d s h i p o n g r e y s t o n e s !
T h e r e ' s n o w e l c o m e for m e o n t h e r o c k ,
Hunting my youth on the way
L i k e O i s i n o n t h e crags,
N o r again a l o n g t h e foreshore
Lamenting the host of the dead.

translated by Patrick Crotty

MEMORY OF SUNDAY

I see t h e S u n d a y s u n b e a t i n g
D o w n o n t h e face o f t h e g r o u n d
I n t h e b e l o v e d island all a f t e r n o o n ;
M u c h s t o n e , little clay
T h a t ' s t h e b l e a k island's t e s t i m o n y ,
T h e wretched inheritance of my people.

I see h o w t h e s t o n e has cast e a c h m a n ,

A n d b r u i s e d h i m i n t o its o w n s h a p e .
A n d I see t h e c r o w d w h o f o r s o o k f o r e v e r
S t o n e a n d clay a n d w r e t c h e d i n h e r i t a n c e ,
A n d 1 see t o o e a c h p u t - u p o n m o t h e r
C o m p o s i n g h e r b r o o d like a p o e m t o m e m o r i s e .

translated by Patrick Crotty

luv
 C R A N N A FOIRTIL

C o i n n i g h d o t h a l a m h a a n a m Horn,
Coigil chugat gach tamhanrud,
Is ná bí m a r ghiolla gan chaithir
I n d i a i d h na gcarad nár fhóin duit.

M i n i c a d h e a r c a i s l a d h r á n trá
Ar charraig fhliuch go h u a i g n c a c h ;
M u r a b h f u a i r éadáil ó n t o i n n
N i bhfuair g u t h ina héagmais.

N í o r thugais ó do ríocht d h o r c h a
C a i p í n an tsonais ar do c h e a n n ,
A c h cuireadh cranna cosanta
G o t e a n n t h a r d o c h l i a b h á n cláir.

C r a n n a caillte a c u i r e a d h t h a r a t ;
T l u iarainn os do c h i o n n ,
Ball é a d a i g h d ' a t h a r t a o b h leat
Is b i o r sa t i n e t h i o s .

L u i g h a r d o c h r a n n a foirtil
I g c o i n n e m a l l m h u i r is d í t h r á ,
Coigil aithinne d'aislinge,
S c a r a d h léi is é a g d u i t .

I Hi
 S T R O N G BEAMS

Stand y o u r g r o u n d , soul:
H o l d fast t o e v e r y t h i n g t h a t ' s r o o t e d ,
A n d d o n ' t react like s o m e p u b e s c e n t b o y
W h e n y o u r friends let y o u d o w n .

Often y o u ' v e seen a redshank

Lonely on a w e t rock;
I f h e w o n n o spoil f r o m t h e w a v e
T h a t w a s n o c a u s e for c o m p l a i n t .

Y o u b r o u g h t from y o u r dark k i n g d o m
N o lucky caul o n y o u r h e a d
But protective beams w e r e placed
Firmly r o u n d y o u r cradle.

W i t h e r e d beams they placed r o u n d you,

An iron tongs above you,
A n i t e m o f y o u r father's clothes beside y o u
A n d a p o k e r i n t h e fire b e l o w .

Put your weight to your strong oar-beams

Against n e a p - t i d e and l o w water;
Preserve the spark of y o u r vision -
Lose that a n d y o u ' r e finished.

translated by Patrick Crotty

 S E Á N Ó RÍ O R D Á I N

Born Ballyvourncy, C o u n t y C o r k , 1917. M o v e d to Inniscarra, a few

miles outside C o r k city, 1932. Educated at the N o r t h Monastery, C o r k .
Clerk in C o r k City Hall, 1 9 3 6 - 6 5 . Part-time position in Irish
department, University College C o r k , 1 9 6 9 - 7 6 . D.Litt. from National
University of Ireland, 1976. D i e d C o r k , 1977. O Ríordáin w r o t e a
weekly c o l u m n for the Irish Times, 1 9 6 7 - 7 5 . His near legendary diaries
remain unpublished.

T h e tuberculosis which blighted O Ríordáin's y o u t h is reflected in his

poetry's frequent references to illness and, crucially, in its characteristic
projection of the estranged, resigned, too fervid perspective of the
invalid. Anguish of o n e sort or another - grief, guilt, religious terror -
provides the starting point of m a n y of the p o e m s but the writing is
never merely expressive. Startling imagery and an undercurrent of
anarchic, self-deprecating h u m o u r play against the grimness of
O Ríordáin's themes. No t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y Irish p o e m in either
language issues from as d e e p within Catholic religious consciousness
as ' C n o c Mellerf (based on a retreat in the Cistercian abbey in
C o u n t y Waterford). N e i t h e r has the Oedipal intensity of the son's
relationship to the m o t h e r - a fact of life in rural Ireland - ever been
presented as hauntingly (or with as little embarrassment) as in
'Adlilacadh Mo Mháthar'. T h a t p o e m extracts a pained artistic credo
from its unlikely materials, and is perhaps the first fully m o d e r n lyric in
Irish. T h e short pieces represent an equal o r d e r of achievement.
'Claustrophobia' adapts the rhetoric of the W a r of I n d e p e n d e n c e
(most fiercely fought in the poet's native west C o r k ) to the struggle
against despair, while 'Siollabadh' gives free rein to the playful
impulse never entirely absent from O Ríordáin's w o r k .
 ADHLACADH M O MHÁTHAR

Grian an M h e i t h i m h in úllghort,
Is s i o s a r n a c h i sioda an t r á t h n ó n a ,
Beach mhallaithe ag portaireacht
M a r screadstracadh ar an nóinbhrat.

Seanalitir shalaithe á l é a m h a g a m ,
L e g a c h f o c a l d e o c h d a r ólas
Pian bhinibeach ag dealgadh mo chléibhse,
D o b h r d i g h a m a c h g a c h focal d i o b h a d h e o i r féin.

Do c h u i m h n i o s ar an láimh a dhein an scribhinn,

Lámh a bhi inaitheanta mar aghaidh,
L á m h a thai r i a m h c n e a s t a c h t s e a n a - B h i o b l a ,
L á m h a b h i m a r bhalsam is tú tinn.

A g u s t h i t a n M e i t h e a m h siar i s t e a c h s a G h e i m h r e a d h ,
D e n ú l l g h o r t d e i n e a d h r e i l i g b h á n cois a b h a n n ,
Is i lár na b a l b h - b h á i n e i mo t h i m p e a l l
Do liúigh os ard sa tsneachta an d u p h o l l ,

G i l e g e a r r a c h a i l e lá á c é a d c h o m a o i n e ,
Gile a b h l a i n n e D é D o m h n a i g h a r altóir,
Gile bainne ag sreangtheitheadh as na ciochaibh,
N u a i r a c h u i r e a d a r m o m h á t h a i r , gile a n f h ó i d .

B h i m ' a i g n e á s c i ú i r s e a d h féin a g i a r r a i d h
An t-adhlacadh a bhlaiseadh go hiomlán,
N u a i r a d'eitil trid an gciúnas b a n go rnionla
S p i d e o g a b h i gan m h e a r b h a l l gan scáth:

Agus d'fhan os c i o n n na h u a i g h e fé m a r go m b ' e o l di

Go raibh an toisc a t h u g í ceilte ar c h á c h
A c h a n t é a b h i a g f e i t h e a m h ins a n g c o m h r a i n n ,
I s d o r i n n e a s é a d fén g c a i d r e a m h n e a m h g h n á c h .

D o t h u i r l i n g aer n a b h F l a i t h e a s a r a n u a i g h sin,
B h i m e i d h i r uafásach naofa a r a n c a n ,
Bhios deighilte amach ón diamhairghnó im thuata,
I s a n uaigh sin o s m o ( l i o i n h a i i i n i m i g é i n .

I I I
 MY M O T H E R ' S BURIAL

J u n e sun in an orchard
A n d a w h i s p e r i n g i n t h e a f t e r n o o n ' s silk,
A malicious bee's drone
S c r e a m - t e a r i n g t h e d a y ' s fabric.

A n old soiled letter i n m y h a n d :

W i t h every w o r d that I drank
A v e n o m o u s pain s t u n g my breast,
E a c h w o r d b r u i s e d o u t its i n d i v i d u a l tear.

I recalled the hand that did the writing,

A h a n d as r e c o g n i s a b l e as a face,
A h a n d that dealt o u t old Biblical kindness,
A h a n d t h a t w a s like b a l m w h e n y o u w e r e ill.

A n d J u n e collapsed back into winter:

T h e o r c h a r d was a w h i t e c e m e t e r y by a river
A n d f r o m t h e h e a r t o f t h e silent w h i t e n e s s all a b o u t m e
T h e black hole roared in the s n o w .

T h e w h i t e n e s s o f a girl o n h e r first C o m m u n i o n D a y ,
T h e w h i t e n e s s o f t h e w a f e r o n a S u n d a y altar,
T h e w h i t e n e s s o f m i l k d r a w i n g free f r o m t h e b r e a s t s ,
W h e n they b u r i e d m y m o t h e r , t h e w h i t e n e s s o f t h e sod.

M y m i n d w a s s c o u r g i n g itself i n t h e a t t e m p t
T o savour the burial entire
W h e n there gently flew i n t o the bright silence
A robin, unflustered, unafraid.

It h o v e r e d a b o v e t h e g r a v e as if it k n e w
T h e r e a s o n for its c o m i n g w a s h i d d e n f r o m all
But t h e o n e l y i n g w a i t i n g i n t h e coffin:
I resented their extraordinary exchange.

T h e air o l I l e a v e n l a n d e d o n t h a t g r a v e ,
A t e r r i b l e , saintly m e r r i m e n t h e l d t h e b i r d :
I was b a n c d from t h e m y s t e r y like a l a y m a n
A n d tin g r a v e , t h o u g h right before m e , was miles a w a y

11 .
 Le c u m h r a c h t bróin do folcadh m ' a n a m drúiseach,
T h i t sneachta geanmnaiochta ar mo chroi,
A n o i s a d h l a c f a d sa c h r o i a d e i n e a d h i o n r a i c
C u i m h n e n a m n á d ' i o m p a i r m é trí r á i t h e i n a b r o i n n .

T h á i n i g n a s c o l ó g a l e b o r b t h o r a n n sluasad,
I s d o s c u a b a d a r l e f u i n n e a m h a n c h r é i s t e a c h san u a i g h ,
D'fhéachas-sa t r e o eile, b h i c o m h a r s a ag glanadh a g h l u i n e ,
D ' f h é a c h a s a r a n sagart i s b h i s a o l t a c h t i n a g h n ú i s .

Grian an M h e i t h i m h in úllghort,
Is s i o s a r n a c h i sioda an t r á t h n ó n a ,
Beach mhallaithe ag portaireacht
M a r screadstracadh ar an nóinbhrat.

Ranna beaga bacacha á scríobh agam,

B a m h a i t h l i o m b r e i t h a r eireaball s p i d e o i g e ,
Ba m h a i t h l i o m sprid l u c h t glanta glún a dhibirt,
B a m h a i t h l i o m triall g o d e i r e a d h lae g o b r ó n a c h .

MALAIRT

' G a i b h i l e i t h , ' arsa T u r n b u l l , ' g o b h f e i c e t ú a n b r ó n

I s u i l i b h an c h a p a i l l ,
D á m b e a d h c r ú b a c h o m h m ó r l e o sin fútsa b h e a d h b r ó n
I d s h ú i l i b h c h o m h m a i t h leis.'

A g u s b ' f h o l l a s g u r t h u i g s é c h o m h m a i t h sin a n b r ó n
I s ú i l i b h an c h a p a i l l ,
I s g u r m h a c h n a i g h c h o m h c r u a i d h air g u r t o m a d h é f á d h e o i d h
In aigne an chapaill.

D ' f h é a c h a s a r a n gcapall g o b h f e i c i n n a n b r ó n
' N a shúilibh ag seasamh,
D o c h o n a c súile T u r n b u l l a g f é a c h a i n t i m t h r e o
As cloigeann an chapaill.

I UP
T h e freshness o f s o r r o w w a s h e d m y l a s c i v i o u s s o u l ,
P u r e s n o w fell o n m y h e a r t :
In my w h i t e heart n o w I will b u r y the m e m o r y
O f s h e w h o c a r r i e d m e t h r e e seasons i n h e r w o m b .

T h e labourers c a m e w i t h a harsh s o u n d of shovels

A n d roughly swept the earth into the grave.
I l o o k e d a w a y , a n e i g h b o u r w a s b r u s h i n g his k n e e s ;
I l o o k e d at t h e p r i e s t a n d t h e r e w a s w o r l d l i n e s s in his face.

J u n e sun in an o r c h a r d
A n d a w h i s p e r i n g i n t h e a f t e r n o o n ' s silk,
A malicious bee's drone
S c r e a m - t e a r i n g t h e d a y ' s fabric.

Little h a l t i n g verses I ' m w r i t i n g ,

I ' d like t o c a t c h t h e tail o f a r o b i n ,
I'd like t o v a n q u i s h t h e spirit o f t h e k n e e - b r u s h e r s ,
I ' d l i k e t o fare i n s o r r o w t o t h e e n d o f d a y .

translated by Patrick Crotty

SWITCH

' C o m e h e r e , ' said T u r n b u l l , 'till y o u see t h e sadness

In the horse's eyes,
I f y o u h a d s u c h b i g h o o v e s u n d e r y o u t h e r e ' d b e sadness
In y o u r eyes t o o . '

I t w a s clear t h a t h e u n d e r s t o o d s o w e l l t h e sadness
In the horse's eyes,
A n d had p o n d e r e d it so long that in the e n d h e ' d plunged
Into the horse's m i n d .

I l o o k e d at t h e h o r s e to see t h e sadness
( ) b v i o u s in its e y e s ,
A n d saw l u r n b u l l ' s eyes l o o k i n g in my direction
From the horse's head.

11 /
 D ' f h é a c h a s ar T u r n b u l l is d ' f h é a c h a s air fá d h ó
Is do c h o n a c ar a l e a c a i n
N a súile r ó m h ó r a b h i b a l b h l e b r ó n -
Súile an c h a p a i l l .

C N O C MELLERÍ

S r a n n t a r n a c h na stoirme i M e l l e r í aréir
Is laethanta an pheaca b h o i g m a r bhreoiteacht ar mo c h u i m h n e ,
L a e t h a n t a b a l e a p a c h a d e s h o n a s c h l ú m h a n tsaoil
I s d r e a n c a i d í n a d r ú i s e i o n t u a g p r e a b a r n a i g h ina m i l t e .

D ' é i r i g h san o í c h e s i d h e g a o i t h e c o i s c é i m ,
M a n a i g h a g triall a r a n A i f r e a n n ,
M e i d h i r , c a s a d h t i m p e a l l is r i n c e san aer,
Bróga na manach ag cantaireacht.

Bráthair sa p h r o i n n t e a c h ag riaradh suipéir,

Tost b o g ba bhalsam d o n intinn,
A i n n i s e naofa in oscailt a b h é i l ,
Iompar mothaolach Críostaí mhaith.

D o d o i r t e a d h steall a n c h r u t h a c h g r é i n e g o m a l l
T r í mhúnla cruiceogach fuinneoige,
Do ghaibh si cruth manaigh ó bhaitheas go b o n n
Is do thosnaigh an ghrian ag léitheoireacht.

Leabhar ag an manach bán n a m h d a c h á léamh,

Go h o b a n n casachtach an chloig,
Do m ú c h a d h an manach b h i déanta de ghréin
I s d o s c o i l t e a d h a n focal na p h l o i c .

B u a i l e a d h clog C o m p l i n is bhrostaigh gach aoi

M a o l c h l u a s a c h i d t r e o an t s é i p é i l ;
B h i b e a t h a n a n a o m h s e o c h o m h b a n l e braitlin
Is s i n n e c h o m h d u b h Icis an d a o l .

I IH
 I l o o k e d a t T u r n b u l l o n e last t i m e
A n d s a w o n his face
O u t s i z e eyes that w e r e d u m b w i t h sadness -
T h e horse's eyes.

translated by Patrick Crotty

M O U N T MELLERAY

T h e s n o r i n g o f t h e s t o r m i n M e l l e r a y last n i g h t
A n d days o f soft sin o n m y m e m o r y l i k e s i c k n e s s ,
D a y s t h a t w e r e life's b e d s o f ease
W i t h fleas o f lust h o p p i n g i n t h e m i n t h e i r t h o u s a n d s .

A fairy w i n d o f f o o t s t e p s r o s e i n t h e n i g h t
- M o n k s g o i n g to Mass,
G a i e t y , t u r n i n g a b o u t a n d d a n c i n g i n t h e air,
T h e c h a n t i n g o f sandals.

A b r o t h e r in the dining-hall dispensing supper,

A s i l e n c e so soft it w a s b a l m for t h e m i n d ,
T h e saintly p o v e r t y o f his s p e e c h
A n d unaffected d e m e a n o u r of a g o o d Christian.

1 )eformed sunlight was slowly p o u r e d

T h r o u g h the hive-like w i n d o w
Until it t o o k the shape of a m o n k from head to toe,
A shape that b e g a n to read.

T h e white malevolent m o n k was reading a b o o k

W h e n a bell s u d d e n l y c o u g h e d -
The s u n - m o n k w a s o b l i t e r a t e d
A n d t h e w o r d lost f r o m his c h e e k s .

( D i i i p l m e was r u n g and e v e r y guest

I lurried, subdued, towards the chapel;
These saints' lives s e e m e d s h e e t - w h i t e
W h e i e ours were beetle-black.
Alias a r p h a i d r í n b r ú i t e i m l á i m h ,
M o bhríste dlúth-tháite lem ghlúin,
Ghluais sochraid chochallach m a n a c h thar bráid,
Ba s h u a r a c h leat f é a c h a i n t a t h a b h a i r t .

A c h d ' f h é a c h a s g o fiosrach g a n taise g a n t r u a

M a r f h é a c h a d a r G i ú d a i g h fadó
A r L a z a r u s c ú t h a i l a g triall a s a n u a i g h
Is g é i r e na súl t h a r t á d h ó .

Do thiteadar tharainn na n d u i n e is 'na n d u i n e ,

Reilig ag síorphaidreoireacht,
I s d o t h u i r l i n g t i u b h s c a m a l l d e c h l ú i m h liath n a cille
Go brónach ar ghrua an tráthnóna.

' T á a n bás a g c u r seaca a r b h e a t h a a n s e o ,

Aige tá na m a n a i g h ar aimsir,
E i s e a n a n t A b a r a n d e i n e a n n siad r u d ,
Ar a s h o n d e i n i d troscadh is treadhanas.

' B u a c h a i l l m a r s h e a n d u i n e m e i r t n e a c h a g siúl,
Masla ar c h o i m i r c e D é ,
An té 'dhéanfadh éagóir dá leithéid ar gharsún
Do chuirfeadh sé cochall ar ghréin;

' D o s c a i p f e a d h a n o í c h e a r fud a n m h e á n l a e ,
Do bhainfeadh an teanga den abhainn,
Do chuirfeadh coir drúise in intinn na n - é a n
Is do líonfadh le náire an d o m h a n .

' T á a n b u a c h a i l l s e o dall a r a n a i g n e fhiáin

A t h o i r c h í o n n s m a o i n t e éagsúla
G a n bacadh le h A b ná le clog ná le riail
A c h l u i sios l e s m a o i n e a m h a d h ú i l e .

' N í bhlaisfidh s é c h o í c h e t r é a n m h e i s c e m n á
A chorraíonn m a r c h r e i d e a m h na sléibhte,
' T h u g léargas d o D a n t e a r F h l a i t h e a s D é t r á t h ,
N u a i r a t h u i r l i n g na h a i n g i l i r i o c h t v c a r s a i , '

I.'O
Perspiration on the beads gripped in my hands,
M y trousers stuck t o m y knees,
A h o o d e d p r o c e s s i o n o f m o n k s g l i d e d past;
T h o u g h i t w o u l d have b e e n vulgar t o stare,

Stare at t h e m I did, w i t h o u t pity or c o m p a s s i o n

As the J e w s stared l o n g ago
At Lazarus shyly issuing f r o m t h e t o m b ,
T h e i r k e e n e y e s all r o u n d b u r n i n g h i m .

T h e y filed past u s o n e b y o n e ,
A c e m e t e r y in p e r p e t u a l prayer,
A n d a thick cloud of sepulchral m i l d e w
S e t t l e d like m e l a n c h o l y o n t h e e v e n i n g ' s c h e e k .

' D e a t h casts a frost o v e r life h e r e ,

T h e m o n k s a r e his r e t i n u e ,
H e the A b b o t they serve,
It's for h i m t h e y e n d u r e fast a n d a b s t i n e n c e .

' A y o u t h w a l k i n g like a n enfeebled old m a n

Is an insult to t h e m e r c y of G o d ;
W h o e v e r w o u l d inflict s u c h w r o n g o n a b o y
W o u l d pull a h o o d o v e r the sun;

' W o u l d s p r e a d n i g h t across m i d d a y ,
W o u l d rip the t o n g u e from the river,
Plant lechery in t h e m i n d s of birds
A n d fill t h e w o r l d w i t h s h a m e .

'This boy is blind to the wild imagination

T h a t fertilises d i v e r s i t y o f t h o u g h t ,
T h a t cares n o t h i n g for A b b o t o r b e l l o r r u l e
B u t lies d o w n w i t h its d e e p e s t d e s i r e .

' H e will n e v e r b e w o m a n - d r u n k
W i t h the longing that m o v e s m o u n t a i n s ,
T h e d e s i r e t h a t o n c e o p e n e d t h e h e a v e n s for D a n t e
W h e n angels d e s c e n d e d in the shape of verses.'

I.'I
Sin é d ú i r t a n e g o b h i u a i b h r e a c h e a s u m h a l ,
Is é dallta le feirg an tsaoil,
A c h d o s m a o i n i o s a r ball, i s a n c e o l o s á r g c i o n n ,
G u r mó ná an duine an tread.

D ' f h é a c h a s laistiar d í o m a r fhásach m o s h a o i l ,

Is an paidrín brúite im dhóid,
Peaca, d i o m h a o i n t e a s is caiteachas claon,
Blianta u r g h r á n n a n e a n t ó g .

D'fhéachas ar bheatha na manach anonn,

D'aithníos dán ar an dtoirt,
Meadaracht, glaine, d o i m h i n b h r i is c o m h f h u a i m ,
B h i m ' a i g n e c r o m t h a l e ceist.

D o bhlaiseas m ó r f h u a s c a i l t n a faoistine a r m a i d i n ,
A i s e a g is u a l a c h ar c e a l ,
Scaoileadh an t-ancaire, rinceas sa Laidin,
Ba dhóbair d o m tuirling ar N e a m h .

A c h d o b h l a i s e a s , u a i r e i l e , i o n t a o i b h a s a m féin,
M o c h u i d fola a r f i u c h a d h l e n e a r t ,
Do shamhlaios gur lonnaigh im intinn Spiorad N a o m h
Is g u r thiteadar m'fhocail ó N e a m h .

B u a r a c h a r m ' a i g n e Eaglais D é ,
Ar shagart do ghlaofainn coillteán,
Béalchráifeacht an C r e i d e a m h , 61 gloine gan lean,
M a i r f e a m g o d t i o c f a i d h a n bás!

Manaigh m a r bheachaibh ag fuaimint im cheann,

M ' a i g n e c r o m t h a l e ceist,
N ó t a í a g r o t h a i o c h t a n o n n i s anall,
Deireadh le C o m p l i n de gheit.

S r a n n t a r n a c h na s t o i r m e i M e l l e r í aréir
Is laethanta an pheaca b h o i g m a r bhreoiteacht ar mo c h u i m h n e
Is na l a e t h a n t a a l e a n f a i d h iad fá c h e i l t i n d o r n D é ,
A c h g r e i m fhir b h á i t e a r M h e l l e r i a n siigan s e o filiochta.
So spoke the arrogant, insubordinate ego,
B l i n d w i t h t h e w o r l d ' s fury;
B u t I t h o u g h t later, a s m u s i c p e a l e d o v e r u s ,
T h a t t h e i n d i v i d u a l i s less t h a n t h e c o n g r e g a t i o n .

I l o o k e d b a c k a t t h e w a s t e o f m y life,
W i t h t h e b e a d s still t i g h t i n m y fist,
Sin, i d l e n e s s , b e n t p r o d i g a l i t y
A ghastly n e t t l e - b e d of y e a r s .

I l o o k e d a t t h e life o f t h e m o n k s
And recognised there the form of a p o e m
M e a s u r e , clarity, p r o f u n d i t y a n d h a r m o n y -
M y m i n d b u c k l e d u n d e r t h e w e i g h t o f its q u e s t i o n s .

T h i s m o r n i n g I s a v o u r e d t h e release o f C o n f e s s i o n ,
R e s t o r a t i o n , a l o a d laid a s i d e ,
T h e a n c h o r w a s raised, I d a n c e d i n L a t i n
A n d a l m o s t set f o o t i n H e a v e n .

But I s a v o u r e d t o o , o n c e m o r e , o v e r - c o n f i d e n c e :
My blood coursing with delight,
I i m a g i n e d t h e H o l y Spirit t o o k u p r e s i d e n c e i n m e ,
That m y w o r d s h a d t h e i r o r i g i n i n H e a v e n .

I li.it G o d ' s c h u r c h w a s a s p a n c e l o n m y m i n d ,
The priest a e u n u c h , t h e F a i t h
M e r c lip-service; drink up w i t h o u t anguish,
I ct's live till we d i e !

The m o n k s s o u n d i n g t h r o u g h m y h e a d l i k e b e e s ,
My m i n d buckled from questioning,
Sung notes wheeling hither and thither:
Suddenly C o m p l i n e was over.

I h e s n o r i n g o f t h e s t o r m i n M e l l e r a y last n i g h t
A n d days o f soft sin o n m y m e m o r y like s i c k n e s s ,
I he days thai will f o l l o w t h e m lie h i d d e n in G o d ' s fist,
But a d r o w n i n g m a n ' s g r i p on M e l l e r a y is t h i s t w i s t of p o e t r y .

translated by Patrick < Wotty

I.' \
 SIOLLABADH

B h i banaltra in otharlann
I n g i l e an t r á t h n ó n a ,
Is c u i s l e a n n a i l e a p a c h a i b h
Ag preabarnaigh go tomhaiste,
D o sheas s i o s g a c h leaba
A g u s d ' f h a n s i seal a g c o m h a i r e a m h
I s d o b h r e a c s i sios a n m h e a d a r a c h t
B h i a g s i o l l a b a d h ina m e o r a i b h ,
Is do shiollaib si go r i t h i m e a c h
Fé d h e i r e a d h as an s e o m r a ,
Is d'fhág na diaidh m a r chlaisceadal
Na cuisleanna ag c o m h a i r e a m h :
Ansin do leath an tAngelus
Im-shiollabchrith ar bheolaibh,
A c h do tháinig éag ar A m e n i b h
M a r chogarnach sa tseomra:
D o l e a n a d h leis a n g c a n t a i r e a c h t
I m a i n i s t i r na feola,
N a cuisleanna m a r m h a n a c h a i b h
Ag siollabadh na nónta.

CLAUSTROPHOBIA

I n aice a n f h i o n a
Tá coinneal is sceon,
T a dealbh m o Thiarna
D ' r é i r dealraimh gan c h o m h a c h t ,
Tá a dtiocfaidh d e n oiche
M a r shluaite sa chlós,
Tá rialtas na hoiche
Lasmuigh den bhfuinneoig;
M á m h ú c h a n n m o choinneal
A r ball d c m ' a i n n e o i n
Léimfidh an oiche
Isteach i m s c a m h ó i g ,
 SYLLABLING

A n u r s e w a s in a h o s p i t a l
In the afternoon brightness
A n d pulses t h e r e w e r e t h r o b b i n g
Regularly in beds;
She stood before each bed-stead
A n d stayed a short w h i l e c o u n t i n g ,
Jotting d o w n the measure
Syllabling in each wrist;
S h e syllabled h e r s e l f a t l e n g t h
Rhythmically from the ward
A n d left b e h i n d a c h o r u s
O f pulses k e e p i n g t i m e :
I t w a s t h e n t h e A n g e l u s s p r e a d its
S y l l a b l e - s h a k e across lips t h e r e
Till A n i e n s d i e d a w a y
Like whispering in the ward:
But the m u r m u r i n g continued
I n t h e m o n a s t e r y o f flesh,
T h e pulses g o i n g l i k e m o n k s
Syllabling their plain-chant.

translated by Patrick Crotty

CLAUSTROPHOBIA

Next to the wine

Stand a candle and terror,
T h e statue o f m y Lord
Bereft o f its p o w e r ;
W h a t ' s left o f t h e n i g h t
Is m a s s i n g in t h e y a r d ,
Night's empire
Is outside the w i n d o w ;
If my c a n d l e fails
1 V s p i t e my efforts
T h e n i g h t will leap
Right i n t o m y l u n g s ,
 Sárófar m ' i n t i n n
Is ceapfar d o m s c e o n ,
Déanfar d í o m oíche,
Bead im dhoircheacht bheo:
Ach má mhaireann mo choinneal
Aon oíche amháin
B e a d i m p h o b l a c h t solais
Go dtiocfaidh an lá

REO

M a i d i n sheaca ghabhas a m a c h
I s b h í seál p ó c a r o m h a m a r s c e a c h ,
R u g a s air l e c u r i m p h ó c a
A c h sciorr sé u a i m m a r b h i sé reoite:
N i héadach b e o a léim ó m ghlaic
A c h r u d fuair bás aréir a r s c e a c h :
Is siúd ag taighde mé fé m ' i n t i n n
Go bhfuaireas macasamhail an ni seo -
Lá dar phógas b e a n d e m m h u i n t i r
Is i i n a c ó n r a r e o i t e , s i n t e .

F1ABHRAS

Tá sléibhte na leapa m ó s ard,

T a b r e o i t e a c h t ' n a b r o t h a l l ' n a lár,
Is fada an t - a i s t e a r u r l á r ,
Is na m i l t e is na m i l t e i g c é i n
Ta s u i a g u s s e a s a m h sa saol.

A t á i m i d i gceantar bráillín,
Ar éigean más c u i m h i n linn cathaoir,
A c h b h i t r á t h sar b a m h a c h a i r e s i n n ,
In a i m s i r c h o i s í o c h t a fadó,
G o i n b i n n s c h o m h hard l e f u i n n e o g ,
 M y m i n d will collapse
A n d t e r r o r b e m a d e for m e ,
T a k e n over by night,
I'll b e d a r k n e s s alive:
B u t i f m y c a n d l e lasts
J u s t this o n e n i g h t
I'll b e a r e p u b l i c o f l i g h t
Until dawn.

translated by Patrick Crotty

FROZEN STIFF

A s I w e n t o u t o n e frosty m o r n i n g
A h a n d k e r c h i e f lay b e f o r e m e o n a b u s h .
I grasped it to p u t it in my p o c k e t
But, frozen, it slithered away.
N o living cloth leaped from m y h a n d
B u t a t h i n g t h a t d i e d last n i g h t o n a b u s h :
R u m m a g i n g then the depths of my m i n d
I c a m e up w i t h t h i s parallel -
T h e day I kissed a w o m a n of my p e o p l e
A n d s h e i n h e r coffin, f r o z e n , s t r e t c h e d .

translated by Patrick Crotty

FEVER

T h e m o u n t a i n s o f t h e b e d are h i g h ,
T h e sick-valley sultry w i t h heat,
It's a l o n g w a y d o w n t o t h e f l o o r ,
A n d miles and miles further
To a w o r l d of w o r k and leisure.

W e ' r e in a land of sheets

W h e r e chairs h a v e n o m e a n i n g ,
But t h e r e w a s a t i m e b e f o r e this l e v e l l e d t i m e ,
A walking time long ago.
W h e n we were high as a window.
T á p i c t i ú i r a r a n bhfalla a g at,
T á a n fráma i m i t h e i n a l a c h t ,
C e a l c r e i d i m h n i féidir é b h a c ,
Tá nithe ag druidim fém dhéin,
Is b r a i t h i m ag t i t i m an saol.

T á c e a n t a r a g taisteal ó n s p é i r ,
T á c o m h a r s a n a c h t suite a r m o m h é a r ,
D o b fhuirist d o m b r e i t h a r s h é i p é a l ,
Tá ba ar an m b ó t h a r ó t h u a i d h ,
I s nil b a n a s í o r a í o c h t a c h o m h c i u i n .

DM
T h e picture on t h e wall is h e a v i n g ,
T h e f r a m e has l i q u e f i e d ,
W i t h o u t faith I c a n ' t h o l d it at b a y ,
Everything's driving at me
A n d I feel t h e w o r l d falling a w a y .

A w h o l e district's a r r i v i n g f r o m t h e s k y ,
A n e i g h b o u r h o o d ' s set u p o n m y f i n g e r ,
Easy n o w to g r a b a c h u r c h -
T h e r e are c o w s o n the n o r t h e r n r o a d
A n d t h e c o w s o f eternity are n o t s o quiet.

translated by Patrick Crotty

129
 V A L E N T I N I R E M O N G E R

Born D u b l i n , 1918. E d u c a t e d at Synge Street Christian Brothers'

School, Coláiste M h u i r e and the A b b e y T h e a t r e School of Acting.
A c t o r and p r o d u c e r at A b b e y and Gate theatres, 1 9 4 0 - 6 . Entered Irish
diplomatic service, 1946. Ambassador to S w e d e n , N o r w a y and Finland
(1964-8), India (1968-73), L u x e m b o u r g (1973-9) and Portugal
(1979-83). Poetry editor of Envoy, 1 9 4 9 - 5 1 . C o - e d i t e d Contemporary
Irish Poetry (1949) with R o b e r t Greacen. Translated M i c i Mac Gabhann's
Rothai Mora an tSaoil as Tlie Hard Road to Klondike (1962) and Dónal
Mac Amhlaigh's Dialann Deorai as An Irish Navvy, the Diary
of an Exile (1964). D i e d 1991.

I r e m o n g e r w r o t e a small n u m b e r of impressive lyrics in his late twenties

and very little thereafter. 'This H o u r e H e r Vigill' negotiates a debt to
J o h n C r o w e Ransom to vindicate itself as an authentic and m e m o r a b l e
elegy. 'Clear V i e w in S u m m e r ' is perhaps the most spacious of half a
d o z e n or so meditations on the tyranny of t i m e - a t h e m e w h i c h
obsessed I r e m o n g e r and may have silenced h i m . T h e syncopated
rhythms and nonchalant pose o f ' I c a r u s ' provided a lead no Irish
p o e t w o u l d follow for decades.

THIS H O U R E HER VIGILL

E l i z a b e t h , frigidly s t r e t c h e d ,
On a spring day surprised us
W i t h her starched dignity and the quietness
O f h e r h a n d s c l a s p i n g a b l a c k cross.

W i t h b o o k a n d c a n d l e a n d h o l y w a t e r dish
She received us in the r o o m with the blind d o w n .
H e r e y e s w e r e p e c u l i a r l y c l o s e d a n d w e k n e l t shyly
N o t i c i n g the blot of her hair on the w h i t e pillow.

W e m e t t h a t e v e n i n g b y t h e c r u m b l i n g wall
I n t h e field b e h i n d t h e h o u s e w h e r e I lived
A n d t a l k e d i t o v e r , b u t c o u l d find n o r e a s o n
W h y she h a d left u s w h o m s h e had h k c d s o m u c h .

I K)
 D e a t h , yes, w e u n d e r s t o o d : s o m e t h i n g t o d o
W i t h age and decay, d e c r e p i t b o d i e s ;
B u t h e r e w a s this v i g o r o u s o n e , a l o o f a n d p r i m ,
W h o w o u l d n o t a n s w e r o u r furtive whispers.

N e x t m o r n i n g , h e a r i n g t h e p r i e s t call h e r n a m e ,
I f l e d o u t s i d e , b e i n g full o f c e r t a i n t y ,
A n d cried m y s e v e n years against t h e c h u r c h ' s s t o n e wall.
F o r e i g h t e e n years I did n o t speak h e r n a m e

U n t i l this a u t u m n d a y w h e n , i n a g a l e ,
A s a p l i n g fell o u t s i d e m y w i n d o w , its b r a n c h e s
Rebelliously blotting the lawn's green. Suddenly, I t h o u g h t
O f E l i z a b e t h , frigidly s t r e t c h e d .

CLEAR VIEW IN SUMMER

I leavy w i t h leaves t h e g a r d e n b u s h e s again

S u n , a n d t h e t r e e s a d m i r e t h e m , lazily.
( .ibbages a n d c a r n a t i o n s , drills a n d b e d s o f t h e m , d r o o p t i r e d l y
A n d far a w a y t h e hills, l i k e d r y d o g s , c r o u c h i n g , s q u e a l for w a t e r .
I live, w h o is it w h i s p e r s e v e r y t h i n g is in o r d e r
< ) n this s u m m e r a f t e r n o o n , w h e n n o t h i n g m o v e s , n o t e v e n t h e
Hies, s t r a n g e l y ,
A s w e relax b y t h e l a w n , h e r e u n d e r t h e p e a r - t r e e , w a t c h i n g idly
I he leaves declining, t h e s h a d o w s surely l e n g t h e n .

Iiui i t w o n ' t b e a l w a y s s u m m e r - n o t for u s ; t h e r e are b a d t i m e s

coming
W h e n y o u a n d I will l o o k w i t h e n v y on old p h o t o g r a p h s ,
R e m e m b e r i n g h o w w e s t o o d , t h e r e i n t h e sun, l o o k i n g like gods,
W h i l e t h e days o f o u r lives, l i k e fruit, s w e l l e d a n d d e c a y e d ,
And h o w , by the lake,
Its surface, o n e A u g u s t e v e n i n g , u n c h i p p e d , w a l k i n g , w e l a u g h e d
V . l o v e s l i p p e d his a r m s t h r o u g h o u r s a n d w e g l a d l y f o l l o w e d
I h e p a t h h e s h o w e d u s t h r o u g h life's valley r u n n i n g .

I h c r e ' l l be mm h to re< .ill t h e n , w h e n , like w e t late s u m m e r

leaves,

111
T h e days u n d e r o u r t r e a d d o n ' t r u s t l e , n o o t h e r s u m m e r w a i t i n g
A r o u n d the turn of a n e w year w i t h rich clothes to grace us
W h o s e subtle b e a u t y will h a v e l o n g since languished;
A n d N a t u r e ' s flashing g r e e n n e s s w i l l s t i t c h u p o u r h e a r t s w i t h
anguish
Each day w h e n A u g u s t w i t h sunlight riddles t h e branches, the
leaves taking
V o l u p t u o u s l y t h e s o u t h w e s t w i n d ' s caresses
Y e a r after d y i n g y e a r .

A n d yet t h e declension of each following season, each day's

D e f e c t i o n , splits o p e n o u r h o p e o n l y a n d n o t o u r c o u r a g e , safe
and sound
I n t h e d e e p s h e l t e r o f o u r a w a r e n e s s ; t h e b u s h e s a n d tall t r e e s
Flourish a n d g o d o w n u n c o n s c i o u s l y i n defeat
W h i l e full-grown m a n , w h o s e pride the angels w e e p ,
W a t c h e s l o v e itself g u t t e r o u t s o m e dull e v e n i n g , n o b o d y a r o u n d .
W i n t e r m o v i n g i n , n o fuel left, t h e lights n o t w o r k i n g , t h e lease
U n r e n e w a b l e , s u m m e r a s e l d o m - r e m e m b e r e d scat-phrase.

ICARUS

As, e v e n to-day, the airman, feeling the plane sweat

S u d d e n l y , s e e i n g t h e h o r i z o n tilt u p g r a v e l y , t h e w i n g s s h i v e r ,
K n o w s t h a t , for o n c e , D a e d a l u s has s l i p p e d u p b a d l y ,
D r u n k o n t h e j o b , p e r h a p s , m o r e likely d r e a m i n g , high-flier
Icarus,
H e a d b u t t i n g d o w n , s k i d d i n g a l o n g the light-shafts
Back, o v e r the tones of the sea-waves and the slip-stream, heard
T h e g r a v e l - v o i c e d , s t u t t e r i n g t r u m p e t s o f his h e a r t

S e n n e t a m o n g t h e c r u m b l i n g c o u r t - y a r d s o f his b r a i n t h e m i s t a k e
O f t r u s t i n g s o m e b o d y else o n a n i m p o r t a n t affair l i k e this;
A n d , w h i l e t h e flat sea, a p p r o a c h i n g , b u c k l e d i n t o o h ! a v e n u e s
O f a c c l a m a t i o n , h e s a w t h e w r o n g s t o r y fan o u t i n t o h i s t o r y ,
T r u t h , u n d e f i n e d , lost i n his o w n n e g l e c t . O n t h e hills,
T h e s u m m e r - s h a c k l e d hills, t h e s u n s p a n g e d all d a y ;
L o v e a n d t h e w o r l d w e r e y o u n g and there was n o ending:

i 12
B u t star-chaser, b i g - t i m e - g o i n g , c h a n c e r Icarus
L i k e a d o g o n t h e sea lay a n d t h e girls f o r g o t h i m ,
A n d Daedalus, too busy h a m m e r i n g another j o b ,
R e m e m b e r e d h i m o n l y i n p u b s . N o b u g l e r a t all
S o b b e d taps for t h e y o u n g fool t h e n , r e p o r t e d m i s s i n g ,
P r e s u m e d d r o w n e d , w i n g - b o n e s and leathers on the tide
D r i f t i n g i n casually, o n e b y o n e .
 F E R G U S A L L E N

Born L o n d o n , of Irish father, 1921. M o v e d to D u b l i n at six m o n t h s .

Educated at N e w t o w n School, Waterford, and T r i n i t y College Dublin.
L o n g career in British civil service (as, inter alia, director of hydraulics
research and First Civil Service C o m m i s s i o n e r ) . Has lived in
Berkshire since his r e t i r e m e n t .

Allen was in his seventy-third year w h e n his first collection of p o e m s

was published. He writes gracefully and w i t h an almost h e r m e t i c
self-possession in a variety of styles, m a n y of his p o e m s c o m b i n i n g a
taste for the exotic w i t h a n o t e of resignation. ' T h e Fall', an
uncharacteristic foray into light verse, seems destined for
immortality as a recitation piece.

ELEGY FOR FAUSTINA

F a u s t i n a , i f t h a t w a s y o u r n a m e , y o u are d e a d ,
A n d y o u r beauty, w h i c h sculptors hinted at in stone
A n d poets expanded their language to render in words,
Is less t h a n a c o b w e b in a s c h o l a r ' s m i n d .
A n d n o w I ( h o w foolish i t s o u n d s ) feel for y o u s o m e t h i n g -
At all costs let us n o t call it l o v e .

B u t t h e r e are n i g h t s w h e n i n s t e a d o f s l e e p i n g I t h i n k o f y o u
A n d lie f e v e r i s h l y a w a k e o n k n i v e s o f r o s e s ,
A n d as it w e r e t h r o u g h a crack in an e m b a n k m e n t
B e s i e g i n g s o r r o w e n t e r s , a n d r i d i c u l o u s tears
E x u d e from m y prosaic m u d - c o l o u r e d eyes.
L a t e r I s l e e p , d r e a m i n g p e r h a p s o f streets a n d b u s e s .

O r i n t h e sunlight, w a l k i n g t h r o u g h the streets,

M y tie n e a t l y k n o t t e d a n d m y h a i r s m o o t h e d d o w n ,
T o all a p p e a r a n c e s l i k e s o m e o n e i n his s e n s e s ,
T h e r e are days w h e n i t s e e m s y o u are c o n t i n u a l l y p r e s e n t
A n d I t h i n k o f y o t i r c r e a m - c o l o u r e d b o d y , y o u r c a r m i n e lips
A n d y o u r i m p o s s i b l e p r i d e (for that I b l a m e y o u r p a r e n t s ) .
B u t e a c h t i m e , a s t h o u g h t h r o u g h d e p t h s o f glass, I see y o u
S u r r o u n d e d by netted birds and captured lovers,
I r e m e m b e r today's ruin w h i c h tourists y a w n at
W a s t h e t e m p l e w h e r e s e l f - c o n s u m i n g c a n d l e s flared,
T h a t Venus was s o m e o n e important w h e n y o u w e r e y o u n g
A n d t h e fixed stars w e r e fixed i n d i f f e r e n t p l a c e s .

T H E FALL

T h e G a r d e n of E d e n (described in the Bible)

W a s Guinness's Brewery (mentioned by Joyce),
W h e r e innocent A d a m and Eve were created
A n d d w e l t from necessity rather than c h o i c e ;

F o r n o t h i n g existed b u t Guinness's B r e w e r y ,
G u i n n e s s ' s B r e w e r y o c c u p i e d all,
Guinness's Brewery everywhere, anywhere -
W o e t h a t e x p u l s i o n s u c c e e d e d t h e Fall!

T h e ignorant pair w e r e e n c o u r a g e d i n d r i n k i n g
W h a t e v e r t h e y fancied w h e n e v e r t h e y could,
E x c e p t for t h e p o r t e r o r s t o u t w h i c h e m b o d i e d
D e l e c t a b l e k n o w l e d g e o f Evil a n d G o o d .

In Guinness's Brewery, innocent, happy,

T h e y t e n d e d t h e silos a n d c o p p e r s a n d v a t s ,
T h e y p o l i s h e d t h e e n g i n e s a n d c o o p e r e d t h e barrels
A n d e v e n m a d e p e t s o f t h e B r e w e r y rats.

O n e m o r n i n g while A d a m was b r o o d i n g and b r e w i n g

I t h a p p e n e d t h a t E v e h a d g o n e off o n h e r o w n ,
W h e n a s e r p e n t l i k e ivy slid u p t o h e r softly
And m u r m u r e d seductively, Are we alone?

O E v e , said t h e s e r p e n t , I b e g y o u t o s a m p l e
A b o t t l e of G u i n n e s s ' s e x c e l l e n t s t o u t ,
W h o s e n u t r i t i v e q u a l i t i e s n o o n e can q u e s t i o n
A n d s t i m u l a n t p r o p e r t i e s n o o n e can d o u b t ;

i IS
It's t o n i c , e n l i v e n i n g , s t r e n g t h e n i n g , h e a r t e n i n g ,
L o a d e d w i t h vitamins, straight from the w o o d ,
A n d further enriched with the not undesirable
L u c r a t i v e k n o w l e d g e o f Evil a n d G o o d .

So E v e was persuaded and A d a m was t e m p t e d ,

T h e y fell a n d t h e y d r a n k a n d c o n t i n u e d t o d r i n k
(Their singing and dancing and shouting and prancing
Prevented the serpent from sleeping a wink).

Alas, w h e n t h e c o u p l e h a d f i n i s h e d a b a r r e l
A n d s w a l l o w e d t h e final i n f o r m a t i v e d r o p s ,
T h e y l o o k e d at each o t h e r and k n e w they w e r e naked
A n d covered their intimate bodies with hops.

T h e anger a n d rage o f t h e L o r d w e r e appalling,

H e w r a t h f u l l y c u r s e d t h e m for t a k i n g t o d r i n k
A n d h o u n d e d them out of the Brewery, followed
By beetles (magenta) and elephants (pink).

T h e crapulous couple e m e r g e d to discover

A u n i v e r s e full of diseases a n d c r i m e s ,
W h e r e p o r t e r c o u l d o n l y b e p u r c h a s e d for m o n e y
In specified places at specified times.

A n d n o w i n this w o r l d o f c o n f u s i o n a n d e r r o r
O u r o n l y salvation a n d h o p e is to try
T o threaten and bargain o u r w a y into H e a v e n
By drinking the heavenly B r e w e r y dry.
 M Á I R E M H A C A N T S A O I

Born into p r o m i n e n t republican family, D u b l i n , 1922. Learned Irish as a

child in west Kerry Gaeltacht. Educated at University College D u b l i n
and the S o r b o n n e . A b a n d o n e d Celtic studies for law degree and career
in Irish diplomatic service in Paris and Madrid. Lived in Ghana and
N e w Y o r k before settling in D u b l i n in late 1960s. W r o t e A Concise
History of Ireland (1972) w i t h her husband, C o n o r Cruise O ' B r i e n .

Máire M h a c an tSaoi's poetry is notable for its vernacular purity and its
continuity with the idioms and motifs of traditional song. H e r early
w o r k , w h i c h unsentimentally portrays the sexuality of y o u n g
w o m a n h o o d , has received most critical attention, t h o u g h she has
p r o d u c e d p o e m s of distinction in all phases of her career. ' C e a t h r ú i n t í
Mháire Ní O g á i n ' explores an unhappy love affair in the persona
of Máire Ni Ogáin, mistress of the e i g h t e e n t h - c e n t u r y poet
D o n n c h a Rua Mac C o n m a r a . ' N á b í a g d é a n a m h Máire N i Ogáin
díot féin' - ' D o n ' t be m a k i n g a Mary H o g a n [that is, a fool] of
yourself - is a M u n s t e r p r o v e r b .

I 17
 CAOINEADH

G l ó r goil a r a n n g a o i t h
Is b r a t sine l i a t h a i g h s p é a r t h a ,
Ise d o b áille fág i n a l u í
Ina caoluaigh c h u n g ina haonar.

Tiocfaidh a n l e o i t h n e b h o g aniar
Is an d u i l l i ú r úr ar l o m a g h é a g a ,
L í o n f a i d h ré is é i r e o i d h g r i a n ,
I n a g c ú r s a s í o r triallfaidh réalta;

Is as an g c r é tá os a c i o n n ,
As a h u c h t geal, as a c a o m h c h o r p ,
T r í a o i b h a n lae i s d e o r a ó n n d r u c h t ,
T r í f h ó d a n í o s fásfaidh féara -

A c h choíche ní cúmfar ceol ceart,

Feasta, n á c a o i n v é a r s a ;
Cailleann anois an c r o í a neart,
Is an m h e a b h a i r g h l i c , c a i l l e a n n a h é i f e a c h t .

C E A T H R Ú I N T Í MHÁIRE NÍ ÓGÁIN

A c h a m b e a d gafa as an l i o n s e o -
Is n á r lige D i a g u r fada san -
Béidir go bhfónfaidh c u i m h n e a m h
Ar a bhfuaireas de s h u a i m h n e a s id bhaclainn.

Nuair a bheidh ar mo chumas guíochtaint,

C o m a o i n e is éisteacht Aifrinn,
C é déarfaidh ansan nach cuí d h o m
A r ' s h o n s a i s a r m o s h o n féin a c h a i n e ?

A c h c o m h a i r l e idir dha' linn d u i t ,

Na' téir r ó d h í l i s in a c h r a n n ,

i w
 LAMENT

T h e s o u n d o f tears o n t h e w i n d
A n d s t o r m - c l o u d s d a r k e n i n g t h e skies;
S h e , t h e l o v e l i e s t , let h e r lie
I n h e r little n a r r o w g r a v e o n h e r o w n .

F r o m t h e w e s t t h e gentle b r e e z e will c o m e
A n d t h e fresh leaf o n b o u g h s n o w b a r e ,
M o o n will w a x a n d s u n will rise,
A n d t h e stars r e s u m e t h e i r c o u r s e s ;

A n d f r o m t h e clay a b o v e h e r ,
F r o m h e r bright breast, from h e r dear corpse,
T h r o u g h t h e d a y ' s b e a u t y a n d t h e d e w ' s tears,
U p t h r o u g h t h e s o d will g r o w grasses -

B u t n e v e r will appropriate m u s i c b e c o m p o s e d ,
N o n e v e r , n o r delicate verses;
N o w t h e h e a r t loses i t s t r e n g t h ,
A n d t h e q u i c k m i n d , i t loses its usefulness.

translated by Patrick Crotty

MARY H O G A N ' S QUATRAINS

If I o n c e g o t free of this n e t -
A n d G o d grant that w o n ' t be t o o l o n g -
I c o u l d p e r h a p s live o n t h e m e m o r y
O f t h e ease I f o u n d i n y o u r a r m s .

W h e n I learn again h o w to pray,

H e a r Mass a n d g o t o C o m m u n i o n ,
W h o ' l l say t h e n it's n o t r i g h t
T o s t o r m h e a v e n for y o u a n d for m e .

Hut .1 bit <>! a d v i c e in t h e m e a n t i m e

I )»mi ( M i t o o fondly atta< lied;

i 19
M a r go bhfuilimse meáite ar scaoileadh
Pc c u i b h r i n n é a s n a i d h m f e a r e a d r a i n n .

II

Beagbhean ar amhras daoine,

B e a g b h e a n a r c h r o s n a sagart,
Ar gach ni ach a b h e i t h sinte
I d i r tú a g u s falla -

N e a m h s h u i m Horn f u a c h t n a h o i c h e ,
N e a m h s h u í m l i o m scríb i s f e a r t h a i n n ,
Sa d o m h a n c ú n g ruin teolai seo
Ná téann thar fhaobhar na leapan -

Ar a bhfuil r o m h a i n n ni s m a o i n f e a m ,
Ar a bhfuil déanta cheana,
L i n n e a n u a i n , a c h r o i istigh,
Is mairfidh si go m a i d i n .

Ill

A c h a r bliana atáim
A g l u i farat i d c h l ú i d ,
D e a c a i r a n o i s a rá
C a d leis a r a i b h m o shuil!

Ghabhais de chosaibh i gcion

A t u g a d h c h o m h fial ar d t ú i s ,
G a n a i t h i n t féin fed t h r o i g h
F u l a g na feola a b h r ú i g h !

Is fós tá an c r e a t u m h a l
Ar mhaithe le seanagheallúint,
A c h ó thost cantain an c h r o i
T r á n n áthas n a b p l e i s i ú r .

IV

Tá naí an éada ag deol mo chí'se,

Is mé ag tál air de 16 is d ' o i c h e ;
An gárlach g r á n n a .ig c u r na bhfiacal,
Is de n i m h a g h r e a m a mo chuisle lionta.

Mil
For I am intent on breaking
E v e r y b o n d t h e r e c o u l d ever b e b e t w e e n us.

II

A fig for p e o p l e ' s o p i n i o n s ,

A fig for t h e p r i e s t ' s i n t e r d i c t i o n s ,
For everything b u t lying stretched
B e t w e e n y o u a n d t h e wall -

T h e freezing night is n o t h i n g ,
A n d n o t h i n g t h e driving rain
T o t h e s e c r e t w o r l d o f w a r m t h t h a t spans
F r o m o n e side o f t h e b e d t o t h e o t h e r .

N o n e e d t o think o f the future

N o r o f w h a t has g o n e b e f o r e -
N o w is the h o u r , dear heart:
It will last u n t i l m o r n i n g .

Ill

A w h o l e year n o w I've spent

Stretched b e n e a t h y o u r quilt,
It's difficult at this stage to say
W h a t I w a s h o p i n g t o gain!

Y o u r feet t r o d all o v e r
W h a t w a s g i v e n s o freely a t first,
W h i l e y o u h a d n e v e r a t h o u g h t for
W h a t trampled flesh must endure.

A n d still t h e b o d y s u b m i t s
F o r t h e sake o f a n a n c i e n t p r o m i s e ,
B u t n o w t h a t t h e s o n g has b e e n stilled i n m y h
I )elight ebbs f r o m o u r l o v e - m a k i n g .

IV

T h e c h i l d o f j e a l o u s y i s s u c k l i n g m y breast
I le d e m a n d s it by d a y a n d by night -
I Ic's an Ugly w h e l p a n d he's Cutting Ins t e e t h ,
I I n I I grip tills H I V v e i n s w i t h p o i s o n
A ghrá, ná maireadh an trú b e a g eadrainn,
Is a f h o l l á i n e , s h l á i n e a b h í ár n - a i t h n e ;
B a r á n t a s cnis a c h l o í g h l e m c h n e a s airsin,
Is séala l á i m h e a r a i b h g a c h c e a d aici.

Féach nach meáite mé ar chion a shéanadh,

Cé gur sháigh an t-amhras go d o i m h i n a phréa
A r láir d h e a - t h a r r a i c n á d é a n é i g e a n ,
Is d í o l f a i d h si an c o m h a r leat i n a séasúr f é i n i g .

Is é a c h t a c h an r u d í an p h i a n ,
M a r chaitheann an cliabh,
I s n á t u g a n n f a o i s e a m h n á spás
N á sánas d e l ó n á d ' o í c h ' -

A n t é atá i b p é i n m a r t á i m
N í raibh u a i g n e a c h n á ina a o n a r r i a m h ,
A c h ag i o m p a r cuileachtan de shíor
M a r b h e a n g i n féna c o i m .

VI

' N í c h o d l a í m ist o í c h e ' -

B e a g a n rá, a c h a n b h f i o n n f a r c h o í c h e
A r s h ú i l e oscailte
Ualach na hoíche?

VII

Fada liom anocht!

Do bhí ann oíche
N á r b h fhada faratsa -
Dá leomhfainn cuimhneamh.

G o d e i m h i n n í o r d h e a c a i r san,
An r ó d a d'fhillfinn -
Dá mba cheadaithe
T a r éis a i t h r í a n n .

I l !
D o n ' t let t h e little w r e t c h d i v i d e u s , l o v e ,
So w h o l e s o m e a n d healthy was o u r matini
Skin to skin was o u r u n i o n ' s g u a r a n t e e ,
Its seal a h a n d g r a n t e d e v e r y f r e e d o m .

L o o k , I've n o w i s h t o d e n y affection,
Even if doubt's roots have driven deep;
D o n ' t force a reliable m a r e , a n d she'll
Serve y o u well in the future.

P a i n is a w o n d e r f u l t h i n g !
H o w it wears out the rib-cage,
A n d gives n o relief n o r respite
By day or by night -

T h e p e r s o n i n p a i n like m e
C a n n e v e r b e solitary,
Carrying an eternal c o m p a n i o n
Like a m o t h e r carrying h e r u n b o r n child.

VI

'I d o n ' t s l e e p at n i g h t ' -

A n easy b o a s t , b u t w h o c a n m e a s u r e
T h e weight of the night
O n o p e n eyes?

VII

H o w l o n g t o n i g h t is!
T h e r e was o n c e a night
We did n o t think long -
If I d a r e to r e m e m b e r .

T h e road I'd follow

W o u l d be no hard road -
If return were permitted
After r e p e n t a n c e .

14.1
L u í c h u n suilt L y i n g d o w n for p l e a s u r e
Is éirí c h u n aoibhnis A n d rising w i t h delight
Siúd ba chleachtadh d h ú i n n Such was o u r practice -
D á b h f a i g h i n n d u l siar air. If I c o u l d o n l y r e s u m e it.

translated by Patrick Crotty

I I'
 P E A R S E H U T C H I N S O N

Born Glasgow, of Irish parents, 1927. M o v e d to D u b l i n , 1932. Educated

at Synge Street Christian Brothers' School and University College
Dublin. Translator with International Labour Organisation, Geneva,
1 9 5 1 - 3 . D r a m a critic, Radio Eireann, 1 9 5 7 - 6 1 . Lived in Spain for m u c h
of the 1960s. Gregory Fellow in Poetry, University of Leeds, 1 9 7 1 - 3 .
F o u n d e r and co-editor of the literary magazine Cyphers.
Has translated extensively from Catalan and o t h e r Iberian languages.

H u t c h i n s o n writes in English and Irish. His w o r k in b o t h languages is

distinguished by its geniality and its concern for social justice. In English,
in particular, he is capable of an unusual lyric grace. These qualities
make any collection by H u t c h i n s o n highly readable, t h o u g h some
readers may regret the informal, occasional quality of the greater
n u m b e r of his poems.

MALAGA
for Sammy Sheridan

T h e scent of unseen jasmine on the w a r m night beach.

T h e t r a m a l o n g t h e sea r o a d all t h e w a y f r o m t o w n
t h r o u g h its w i d e o p e n sides d r a n k u n s e e n j a s m i n e d o w n .
L i v i n g w a s n o t h i n g all t h o s e n i g h t s b u t t h a t s t r o n g f l o w e r ,
w h o s e h i d d e n voice on darkness grew to such m a d p o w e r
I c o u l d h a v e s w o r n for o n c e I t r a v e l l e d t h r o u g h full p e a c e
a n d e v e n l o v e a t last h a d p e r f e c t c a l m release
only by breathing in the unseen jasmine scent,
that ruled us and the s u m m e r every h o u r we w e n t .

T h e tranquil unrushed w i n e d r u n k on the daytime beach.

O r f r o m a n o p e n r o o m all t h a t o u r sight c o u l d r e a c h
w a s h e a t , sea, l i g h t , u n e n d i n g i m a g e s o f p e a c e ;
iiid d u n a t last t h e n i g h t b r o u g h t j a s m i n e ' s g r e a t release -
D O ! i m a g e s b u t calm u n c o v e t o u s c o n t e n t ,
d i e w i d e - e y e d heart alert .it rest in J u n e ' s o w n s c e n t .

14ft
I n d a y t i m e ' s h u m d r u m t o w n f r o m small c h i l d after c h i l d
w e b o u g h t c l u s t e r o n c l u s t e r o f t h e star f l o w e r ' s w i l d
w h i t e w i d o w e d h e a d s , r e - w i r e d o n s t r o n g w e e d stalks t h e y ' d
trimmed
t o l o n g g r e e n e l e g a n c e ; b u t still t h e w h o l e m o n t h b r i m m e d
at night a l o n g the b e a c h w i t h a s t r o n g voice like peace;
a n d e a c h m o r n i n g t h e m i n d s t a y e d crisp i n s u c h r e l e a s e .

S o m e h i n t o f c e r t a i n t y , still w o r t h l o n g i n g I c o u l d t e a c h ,
lies lost i n a s t r e n g t h o f j a s m i n e d o w n a s u m m e r b e a c h .

GAELTACHT

Bartley Costello, eighty years old,

sat i n his s i l v e r - g r e y t w e e d s o n a k i t c h e n c h a i r ,
a t his d o o r i n C a r r a r o e , t h e sea o n l y y a r d s a w a y ,
s m o k i n g a p i p e , w i t h a p i n t o f p o r t e r b e s i d e his b o o t :
' F o r t h e past t w e n t y y e a r s I ' v e e a t e n n o t h i n g o n l y
p e r i w i n k l e s , m y o w n h a n d s g o t t h e m ofF t h o s e r o c k s .
Y o u ' r e a q u a r t e r m y a g e , i f y o u ' d stick t o w i n k l e s
y o u ' d live as l o n g as m e , a n d k e e p as spry.'

In the Liverpool Bar, at the N o r t h Wall,

o n his w a y t o j o i n his c h i l d r e n o v e r t h e r e ,
a n o l d m a n l o o k e d a t m e , t h e n d o w n a t his p i n t
o f r i c h D u b l i n s t o u t . H e p o i n t e d a t t h e b l a c k glass:
'Is lú i an G h a e i l g e ná an t - u i s c e sa n g l o i n e s i n . '

B e a r t l a C o n f h a o l a , p r i m e o f his m a n h o o d ,
driving b e t w e e n the r e d w e e d and the rock-fields,
d r i v i n g t h r o u g h t h e s u n n y treeless quartz glory o f C a r n a ,
a n s w e r e d t h e f o r e i g n e r s ' glib p i t y , p o i n t i n g a t t h e
small b l a c k c o w s : ' Y o u w o n ' t g e t f i n e r a n y w h e r e
than those black porry cattle.' In a p u b near t h e r e ,
o n e o f t h e locals finally s p o k e t o t h e t o w n i e :
' L a b h r a i m l e stráinséirí. C r e i d i m g u r chcSir b h e i t h
1
.i! , labhairt le s t r a i n s é i r í . ' P r o u d as a m a n w h o ' d c l a i m :
'I m a d e an o r c h a r d ol a r o c k field,
bougainvillc.i i lainlu'i niytuil neks.'

ii'
A D u b l i n tourist on a r e d - q u a r t e r strand
h u n t i n g firewood found the ruins of a boat,
started b r e a k i n g t h e struts o u t - an old m a n c a m e ,
h e s h o o k his h e a d , a n d said:
'Aá, a m h a c : ná bi ag briseadh báid.'

T h e l o w walls o f r o c k - f i e l d s i n t h e w e s t
are a b e a u t i f u l c l e a n w h i t e g r e y . T h e r e a r e c h i n k s b e t w e e n
t h e n e a t s t o n e s t o let t h e w i n d t h r o u g h safe,
y o u c a n see t h e b l u e s u n t h r o u g h t h e m .
B u t c o m i n g eastward in the same county,
t h e walls g r o w h i g h e r , d a r k g r e y :
an ugly grey. A n d the chinks disappear:
t h r o u g h t h o s e walls y o u c a n s e e n o t h i n g .

T h e n a t last y o u c o m e t o t h e city,
beautiful w i t h salmon basking b e c a l m e d black b e l o w
a bridge over the pale-green C o r r i b ; and ugly
w i t h m a n y s h o p k e e p e r s l o o k i n g d o w n o n m e n like
Bartley Costello and Beartla Confhaola because they
s p e a k i n Irish, e a t p e r i w i n k l e s , k e e p
small b l a c k p o n y c a t t l e , a n d o n u s
b e c a u s e w e are s t r a n g e r s .

T h e G a e l i c m e a n s , in verse 2: T h e G a e l i c is less t h a n t h e w a t e r in that glass; in

verse 3: I speak w i t h strangers. I b e l i e v e it's right to be s p e a k i n g w i t h strangers
(strangers, h e r e , has t h e sense o f o u t l a n d e r s , foreigners, r u n n e r s - i n ) ; i n verse 4 :
A h , son: d o n ' t b e b r e a k i n g a b o a t .

SOMETIMES FEEL

Like an old, w r e c k e d sponge-diver leaking,

like a s u i t - o f - a r m o u r leaking,
l i k e a t r e e - s t u m p leafing
after t h e s h a m e f u l w h i t e has d a r k e n e d o v e r ,
like a n u n w a s h e d p o t a t o b r u t a l l y c u t ,
t h e sickly o f f - w h i t e s p a t t e r e d
w i t h d a r k p a t c h e s of d e c a y .

I4H
 R I C H A R D M U R P H Y

B o r n Milford H o u s e , C o u n t y Galway, 1927. First eight years spent in

Ceylon, w h e r e father (later g o v e r n o r of the Bahamas) was last British
mayor of C o l o m b o . Educated at C o u n t y Galway h o m e , at Wellington
College, Magdalen College, Oxford, and the S o r b o n n e . English teacher
in C r e t e , 1953-4. Spent 1960s in Cleggan, C o u n t y Galway, w h e r e he
restored a house and t w o Galway hookers (gaff-rigged w o r k boats).
Visiting Professor of Poetry, Princeton University, 1 9 7 4 - 5 .
Lives Killiney, C o u n t y D u b l i n , and regularly visits Sri Lanka.

' T h e y were truly Irish,' w r o t e Richard M u r p h y of the boys w h o lived

outside the crumbling d e m e s n e wall of Milford H o u s e , 'and that is w h a t
my b r o t h e r and I w a n t e d to b e . T h e y seemed sharper, freer, m o r e
c u n n i n g than we w e r e . ' M u r p h y is perhaps the last Anglo-Irish poet,
fascinated by native m o d e s of existence w h i c h appear m o r e instinctive
than his o w n . 'Seals at H i g h Island' evokes the r o m a n c e and violence of
life b e y o n d the pale of gentility; in ' M o r n i n g Call', celebration of the
wayward vitality of a pair of itinerant girls is tinged with an
unmistakably patrician b e n e v o l e n c e . M u c h as he may admire it, the
speaker in these p o e m s is excluded from the w o r l d of unselfconscious
intensity the seals and tinker girls share. M u r p h y ' s concern with
building, boat restoration and sailing - and indeed with p o e m
construction - might be said to e m b o d y a diminished, solitary version of
the colonist's 'civilising' imperative. T h e sea w h i c h confounds all
.it tempts at mastery may be identified, in o n e of its aspects at least, with
the Gaelic Irish to w h o m the p o e t feels b o u n d by ties b o t h of affection
and blood (as evinced by his surname and his insistence on his descent
from Patrick Sarsfield). Each of the first forty-nine sonnets in The Price of
Stone (1985) articulates a fragment of personal, familial or national
history through the 'character' of a building or m a n - m a d e structure. In
the fiftieth, 'Natural Son', the poet's o w n voice breaks through in
response to the birth of his son as the living present emerges from the
debris of the past. Like the historical tableau The Battle of Aughrim
(1968), The Price of Stone demands to be read entire.

11«)
 SAILING TO AN ISLAND

T h e b o o m a b o v e m y k n e e s lifts, a n d t h e b o a t
D r o p s , and the surge departs, departs, my c h e e k
K i s s e d a n d r e j e c t e d , kissed, a s t h e gaff s w a y s
A t a n g e n t , cuts t h e infinite sky to r e d
M a p s , a n d t h e m a s t d r a w s e i g h t a n d e i g h t across
Measureless b l u e , t h e b o a t m e n sing or sleep.

W e p o i n t all d a y for o u r c h o s e n island,

C l a r e , w i t h its crags p u r p l e d b y l e g e n d :
T h e r e u n d e r castles t h e h o t O ' M a l l e y s ,
Daughters of Granuaile, the pirate q u e e n
W h o boarded a T u r k with a blunderbuss,
C o m b red hair and assemble cattle.
Across the shelved Atlantic groundswell
P l u m b e d by the sun's kingfisher rod,
W e sail t o l o c a t e i n sea, e a r t h a n d s t o n e
T h e m y t h of a shrewd and brutal s w o r d s w o m a n
W h o piously e n d o w e d a n abbey.
S e v e n h o u r s w e t r y against w i n d a n d t i d e ,
Tack and return, making no headway.
T h e n o r t h w i n d sticks l i k e a g a g i n o u r t e e t h .

Encased in a mirage, steam on the water,

Loosely w e coast w h e r e h i d e o u s rocks j a g ,
An acropolis of c o r m o r a n t s , an extinct
V o l c a n o w h e r e spiders spin, a p u r g a t o r y
G u a r d e d b y hags a n d bristled w i t h breakers.

T h e b r e e z e a s w e p l u n g e s l o w l y stiffens:
T h e r e are hills o f sea b e t w e e n u s a n d l a n d ,
B e t w e e n o u r h o p e s a n d t h e island h a r b o u r .
A child vomits. T h e boat veers and bucks.
T h e r e i s n o r e f u g e o n t h e g a n n e t ' s cliff.
W e are far, far o u t : t h e h u l l i s r o t t e n ,
T h e spars are s p l i t t i n g , t h e r i g g i n g i s frayed,
A n d o u r h e l m s m a n laughs uncautiously.
W h a t o f those w h o must earn their living
O n t h e ribald face o f a m a d mistress?
W e i n h o l i d a y fashion k n o w

IM)
T h i s i s t h e b o a t t h a t b e l c h e d its c r e w
D e a d o n t h e s h i n g l e i n t h e C l e g g a n disaster.

N o w s h e d i p s , a n d t h e sail hits t h e w a t e r .
S h e luffs to a s q u a l l ; is s t r u c k ; a n d s h u d d e r s .
S o m e o n e i s s h o u t i n g . T h e b o o m , w e a k a s scissors,
Has snapped. T h e b o a t m a n is praying.
O r d e r s t h u n d e r a n d canvas c a n n o n a d e s .
S h e s m o t h e r s i n s p r a y . W e still h a v e a m a s t ;
T h e oar m a k e s a b o o m . I am told to cut
C o r d s o u t o f f i s h i n g - l i n e s , fasten t h e j i b .
R o p e s lash m y c h e e k s . Ease! Ease a t last:
S h e s w i n g s t o l e e w a r d , w e c a n safely r u n .
W a s h e d o v e r rails o u r C l a r e Island d r e a m s ,
W i t h storm b e h i n d u s w e straddle t h e wakeful
W a t e r s t h a t d r a w u s headfast t o I n i s h b o f i n .

T h e b o w s rock as she overtakes the surge.

W e n e i t h e r s l e e p n o r s i n g n o r talk,
B u t l o o k t o t h e land w h e r e the m e n are m o w i n g .
W h a t w i l l t h e i s l a n d e r s t h i n k o f o u r folly?

T h e whispering spontaneous reception committee

N o d s and smokes by the calm jetty.
Am I jealous of these courteous fishermen
W h o h a n d u s a s h o r e , for k n o w i n g t h e sea
I n t i m a t e l y , for r e s p e c t i n g t h e s t o r m
That took nine of their m e n on one bad night
A n d five f r o m Rossadillisk i n this v e r y b o a t ?
T h e i r h a r b o u r i s s h e l t e r e d . T h e y a r e s l o w t o tell
T h e story again. T h e r e is local p r i d e
I n t h e i r h o m e - b u i l t ships.
W e are a d v i s e d t o r e t u r n n e x t d a y b y t h e m a i l .

B u t t o n i g h t w e stay, d r i n k i n g w i t h p e o p l e
H a p p y in the m o n o t o n y of boats,
Bringing the catch to the Cleggan m a r k e t ,
C u l t i v a t i n g fields, o r r e t i r i n g f r o m A m e r i c a
W i t h e n o u g h t o soak till m o r n i n g o r o l d a g e .

i .1
T h e b e n c h b e l o w m y k n e e s lifts, a n d t h e f l o o r
D r o p s , a n d t h e w o r d s d e p a r t , d e p a r t , w i t h faces
B l u r r e d b y t h e s m o k e . A n o l d m a n grips m y a r m ,
H i s s h o t e y e s t w i t c h , q u i e t l y dissatisfied.
H e has lost his w a t c h , a n A m e r i c a n g o l d
F r o m B o s t o n g a s - w o r k s . H e treats t h e c o m p a n y
T o t h e s e c r e t i v e s u r g e , t h e sea o f his sadness.
I slip o u t s i d e , fall a m o n g s t o n e s a n d n e t t l e s ,
Crackling dry twigs on an elder tree,
W h i l e a n a c c o r d i o n d r o n e s a b o v e t h e hill.

L a t e r , I r e a c h a r o o m , w h e r e t h e m o o n stares
C o b w e b b e d t h r o u g h t h e w i n d o w . T h e t i d e has e b b e d ,
B o a t s are c a r e e n e d i n t h e h a r b o u r . H e r e i s a b e d .

T H E POET ON THE ISLAND

to Tiicodore Roethkc

O n a w e t n i g h t , l a d e n w i t h b o o k s for l u g g a g e ,
A n d s t u m b l i n g u n d e r t h e b u r d e n o f himself,
H e r e a c h e d t h e p i e r , l o o k i n g for a r e f u g e .

D a r k l y h e c r o s s e d t o t h e island six m i l e s off:

T h e e n g i n e p u l s e d , t h e sails i n v e n t e d r h y t h m ,
W h i l e t h e sea e x p a n d e d a n d t h e rain d r u m m e d softly.

Safety o n w a t e r , h e r o c k e d w i t h a n e w t h e m e :
A n d i n t h e w a r m t h o f his m i n d ' s g r e e n h o u s e b l o o m e d
A p o e m n u r t u r e d like a c h r y s a n t h e m u m .

H i s forehead, a Prussian h e l m e t , m o o d y , d o m e d ,
R e l a x e d i n t h e s u n : a lyric w a s his l a n c e .
To be loved by the p e o p l e , h e , a stranger, h u m m e d

In the herring-store on Sunday crammed with drunks

Ballads o f b a w d r y w i t h a s p e a k e a s y stress.
Y e t l o n e l y t h e y left h i m , ' o n e o f t h e Y a n k s ' .

I S '
 T h e children understood. This was not madness.
H o w m a n y orphans had he fathered in w o r d s
R o b u s t and c u n n i n g , b u t n e v e r heartless.

H e w a t c h e d the h a r b o u r scouted b y sea-birds:

H i s fate w a s l i k e fish u n d e r p o e t r y ' s b e a k s :
W o r d s b e g a n w e i r d l y t o t a k e off i n w a r d s .

T i m e t h a t t h e y c a l e n d a r i n seasons n o t i n c l o c k s ,
In gardens d u g over and houses roofed,
W a s to h i m a see-saw of joys and shocks,

W h e r e his b o d y w i t h e r e d b u t his style i m p r o v e d .

A s t o r m s h o t u p , his glass c r a c k e d in a g a l e :
A n abstract t h u n d e r o f d a r k n e s s d e a f e n e d

T h e listeners h e ' d o n c e g i v e n roses, n o w hail.

H e ' d b u r s t t h e lyric b a r r i e r : l o g i c e n d e d .
D o c t o r s w e r e c a l l e d , a n d h e a g r e e d t o sail.

from T H E BATTLE OF AUGHR1M

CASEMENT'S FUNERAL

After t h e n o o s e , a n d t h e black diary d e e d s

G o s s i p e d , his f a m e r o o t s i n p r i s o n l i m e :
T h e h a n g e d b o n e s b u r n , a r e v o l u t i o n seeds.
N o w Casement's skeleton is flying h o m e .

A g u n salutes, t h e t r o o p s s l o w - m a r c h , o u r n e w
N a t i o n a t o n e s for h e r s h a w l e d m o t h e r l a n d
W h o s e w e l c o m e gaoled h i m w h e n a U-boat t h r e w
T h i s rebel quixote soaked on Banna Strand.

Soldiers in g r e e n guard the d r a p e d catafalque

W i t h chalk remains o f o n c e a m b i g u o u s b o n e
W h i c h f a t h e r e d n o t h i n g till t h e t r a i t o r ' s d o c k
I lurt h i m t o t o w e r i n l e g e n d like W o l f e T o n e .

15 I
F r o m gaol yard t o t h e Liberator's t o m b
P i l l a r e d i n frost, t h e y c a r r y t h e freed ash,
T r a n s m u t e d relic o f a d e a t h - c e l l f l a m e
W h i c h p u r g e d for m a r t y r d o m t h e diarist's f l e s h .

O n t h e small s c r e e n I w a t c h t h e p a c k e d c o r t e g e
P a c e f r o m H i g h M a s s . R e b e l s i n silk hats n o w
Exploit the grave w i t h an old comrade's speech:
W h i t e hair tossed, a black cape flecked w i t h s n o w .

SEALS AT HIGH ISLAND

T h e c a l a m i t y o f seals b e g i n s w i t h j a w s .
B o r n in caverns that reverberate
W i t h e n d l e s s m a l i c e o f t h e sea's t o n g u e
C l a c k i n g on shingle, t h e y learn to bark back
I n fear a n d sadness a n d c e l e b r a t i o n .
T h e o c e a n ' s m o u t h o p e n s f o r t y feet w i d e
A n d closes o n a m o r s e l o f t h e i r r o c k .

S w a y e d b y t h e t h r u s t a n d backfall o f t h e t i d e ,
A dappled grey bull and a brindled c o w
Copulate in the green water of a cove.
I w a t c h from a cliff-top, trying n o t to m o v e .
S o m e t i m e s t h e y sink a n d m e r g e i n t o black shoals;
T h e n r i s e for air, his m u z z l e o n h e r n e c k ,
T h e i r w i n g e d feet i n t e r t w i n e d as a fishtail.

S h e o p e n s h e r fierce m o u t h like a scarlet f l o w e r

Full of w h i t e seeds; she holds it o p e n l o n g
At the sunburst in the music of their loving;
A n d cries a little. B u t I m u s t r e m e m b e r
H o w far t h e i r feelings are f r o m m i n e m a r o o n e d .
I f t h e r e are tears a t this h o l y c e r e m o n y
T h e i r s are c a u s e d b y b r i n e a n d m i n e b y b r e e z e .

W h e n t h e g r e a t b u l l w i t h d r a w s his r o d , i t g l o w s
L i k e a c a r n e l i a n c a n d l e set in jade.
T h e c o w r i p p l e s a s h o r e t o Iced h e r < all;
W h i l e an old rival, eyeing the deed w i t h hate,
Swims to attack the tired t r i u m p h a n t god.
T h e y r e a r t h e i r h e a d s a b o v e t h e b o i l i n g surf,
T h e i r terrible j a w s o p e n , j e t t i n g b l o o d .

A t nightfall t h e y h a u l o u t , a n d m o u r n t h e d r o w n e d ,
P l a y i n g t o t h e sea sadly t h e i r last q u a r t e t ,
A n i m p r o v i s e d r e q u i e m t h a t ravishes
R e a s o n , w h i l e r i p p i n g scale u p l i k e a n e t :
Brings pity trembling d o w n the rocky spine
O f h e a d l a n d s , till t h e b i t t e r o c e a n ' s t o n g u e
Swells in their c o v e , a n d s m o t h e r s their s w e e t song.

STORMPETREL

G i p s y o f t h e sea
In winter w a m b l i n g over scurvy whaleroads,
J o o k i n g i n t h e w a k e o f ships,
A sailor h o o k s y o u

A n d c a r v e s his girl's n a m e o n y o u r b e a k .

Guest of the storm

W h o s w e e p s y o u off t o p a r t y after p a r t y ,
Y o u flit in a sooty grey coat
Smelling of must

B a r e f o o t across a sea of b r o k e n glass.

W a i f of the afterglow
O n s u m m e r nights t o m e e t y o u r mate y o u jink
O v e r sea-cliff a n d g r a v e y a r d ,
Creeping underground
T o h a t c h a n e g g i n a h e r m i t ' s skull.
Pulse o f t h e r o c k
Y o u t h r o b till d a y b r e a k o n y o u r c r y p t i c n e s t
A s o n g o l d e r t h a n fossils.
E p h e m e r a l as thrift.
It e n d s w i t h a gasp.

[33
 M O R N I N G CALL

Up from the trawlers in the fishdock they w a l k to my house

O n h i g h - s o l e d clogs, s t e p p i n g l i k e fillies b a c k f r o m a f o r g e
N e w l y s h o d , to w a k e me at sunrise from a single b e d
W i t h laughter peeling skin from a d r e a m ripening on t h e mossy
B r a n c h e s o f m y h e a d - ' L e t u s in! L e t u s in! - a n d h a l f - n a k e d
I s t u m b l e o v e r a f l o o r o f h e a p e d p a p e r t o o p e n m y d o o r o f glass
T o a f l o o d t h a t crosses t h e t h r e s h o l d , little b l u e w a v e s

N u d g i n g each other, d o d g i n g rocks t h e y ' v e got t o leap over,

F r e s h e n i n g m y b r a c k i s h p o o l s , t o tell m e o f ' O s u c h a n i g h t
B e l o w i n t h e b o a t s ! ' ' W e c a n ' t g o h o m e ! W h a t will t h e y say?'
C a n I t h i n k o f a lie t o p r o t e c t t h e m f r o m G o d o n l y k n o w s
W h a t t r o u b l e this w i l l c a u s e , w h a t r o w s ? ' W e ' l l r u n a w a y
A n d n e v e r c o m e b a c k ! ' - till t h e y flop i n t o b l a c k a r m c h a i r s ,
T w o b e a u t i f u l t e e n a g e girls f r o m a t r i b e o f t i n k e r s ,

L o v e l y a s seals w e t f r o m fishing, h a u l e d o u t o n a r o c k
T o d r y t h e i r d a r k b r o w n fur g l i n t i n g w i t h scales o f s a l m o n
W h e n the spring tide ebbs. T h i s is their everlasting day
O f b e i n g y o u n g . T h e y b r i n g t o m y r o o m t h e sea's i o d i n e o d o u r
O n a b r e e z e o f v o i c e s ruffling m y c a l m a s t h e y c o m b t h e i r l o n g
H a i r t a n g l e d a s w e e d i n a r o c k p o o l b e g i n n i n g t o settle clear.
Give me the sea-breath from your m o u t h s to breathe a while!

from T H E PRICE OF S T O N E

ROOF-TREE

A f t e r y o u b r o u g h t h e r h o m e w i t h y o u r first c h i l d
H o w did y o u celebrate? N o t w i t h a p o e m
She might have loved, but orders to rebuild
T h e house. M e n tore m e open, r o o m b y r o o m .

Y o u r d a u g h t e r ' s cries w e r e a n s w e r e d b y l o u d c r a c k s
O f h a m m e r s s t r i p p i n g slates; t h e c l a w i n g d o w n
O f d o z e d ralters; d u l l , s t u p e f y i n g k n o c k s
O n walls. P r o u d l y y o u r h a c k w o r k m a d e m e g r o a n .

I Si,
 Y o u r g r e e d for k i l n - d r i e d o a k t h a t c o u l d o u t l a s t
Seven generations b r o k e her heart. My m i n d
Y o u filled w i t h r o t - p r o o f h e m l o c k a t a c o s t
T h a t killed h e r l o v e . T h e dust spread u n r e f i n e d .

T o renovate m y structure, w h i c h survives,

Y o u f l a w e d t h e t e n d e r e s t m o v e m e n t o f t h r e e lives.

CONVENIENCE

T h e public servant o f m e n ' s private parts,

Plain c l o t h e d in the u n d e r g r o u n d b e l o w Eros,
W i t h w h i t e g l a z e d stalls, a n d s e e - t h r o u g h m i r r o r arts,
I p l u m b our language empire's omphalos.

Y o u r profane oracle, I speak t h r o u g h a crack

I n a m e n t a l b l o c k , g o i n g far b a c k t o t h e y e a r
Y o u stood here, epicentred on the shock
O f gross a c c u s a t i o n , q u a k i n g a t w o r d s l i k e q u e e r .

I w a t c h e d y o u face a n a b s u r d firing s q u a d
U n b u t t o n i n g u n i f o r m s . I , t o o , h a d lost
M y p r i m a l sense i n t h e p r o m i s c u o u s c r o w d .
D e t e c t e d , blackmailed, j u d g e d , y o u paid t h e cost.

A life s e n t e n c e , a m b i g u o u s l y i m p o s e d ,
P r o p s y o u b e h i n d all k i n d s o f b a r s , e x p o s e d .

KYLEMORE CASTLE

B u i l t for a c o t t o n k i n g , w h o l o v e d t h e v i e w
U n s p o i l t b y mills, i m p r o v e d b y f a m i n e ' s h a n d
T h a t cleared a w a y p e o p l e , petrified I g r e w
Grotesquely rich on m o u n t a i n o u s , p o o r land.

T o last for e v e r , I h a d t o b e faced i n s t o n e

I )ressed by w a g e - s k e l e t o n s ; a s p i n d l y p i l e
O f s t o r m - g r e y turrets that defended n o o n e ,
A m i broke- m y m a k e r , w i t h his f a b r i c a t e d style.

( i o m i n g from c h u r c h t o h o l d h e r usual p l a c e
( )n ( h u s t i n g s nights, w h e e l e d to the dining l o o m ,

157
 H i s w i f e ' s c o r p s e e m b a l m e d in a s e a l e d glass case
O b e y e d his c o m m a n d i n t h e b r a n d y - l i t g l o o m .

N o w , m y l i n e n f o l d p a n e l l e d halls r e t a i n
I n m o r t m a i n his d a r k airs, w h i c h n u n s m a i n t a i n .

NATURAL SON

Before the spectacled professor snipped

T h e cord, I heard y o u r birth-cry flood the ward,
A n d lowered your mother's tortured head, and wept.
T h e h o u s e y o u ' d left w o u l d n e e d t o b e r e s t o r e d .

N o worse pain could b e b o r n e , t o bear the j o y

Of seeing y o u c o m e in a slow dive from the w o m b ,
P u s h e d f r o m y o u r fluid h o m e , p r o n o u n c e d ' a b o y ' .
Y o u ' l l n e v e r find s o w e l l e q u i p p e d a r o o m .

N o h o u s e w e b u i l d c o u l d h o p e t o satisfy
E v e r y small n e e d , n o w t h a t y o u ' v e m a d e this m o v e
T o share o u r loneliness, m u c h a s w e try
O u r v o c a l skill t o w a l l y o u r o u n d w i t h l o v e .

T h i s day y o u crave so little, we so m u c h

F o r y o u t o live, w h o n e e d o u r merest t o u c h .

158
 T H O M A S K I N S E L L A

Horn Dublin, 1928. E d u c a t e d at University College D u b l i n . W o r k e d as

( ivil servant from 1948 until retiring from senior position in D e p a r t m e n t
of Finance, 1965. T a u g h t at University of S o u t h e r n Illinois, 1 9 6 5 - 7 0 ,
and at T e m p l e University, Philadelphia, for m o r e than t w e n t y years
from 1970. N o w lives in C o u n t y W i c k l o w . A process of sombre
retrieval from the past can be seen at w o r k alike in Kinsella's poetry
and in his extensive translation from the Irish - Tlie Táin (1969),
An Duanaire, I 600-1900: Poems of the Dispossessed (1981) and
The New Oxford Book of Irish Verse (1986). The Dual Tradition:
An Essay on Poetry and Politics in Ireland appeared in 1995.

K msella's early verse paid h o m a g e b o t h to t h e agility of A u d e n and the

grandiloquence of Yeats, qualities he c a m e to distrust in his later
practice. All b u t the o p e n i n g piece in the selection derive from the
series of longer p o e m s or sequences to w h i c h the second half of his
career has b e e n d e v o t e d . In these i n t e r c o n n e c t i n g w o r k s of e c h o i n g
phrases and motifs, fragments of reminiscence from the poet's individual
•.I niggle towards awareness are a p p r e h e n d e d against a b a c k g r o u n d of the
impersonal processes of history and prehistory. Voracity is a key t r o p e
of this writing, w h e t h e r in relation to t h e d e v o u r i n g of w e a k e r
biological or political organisms by stronger, or to the poetic
imagination's forced c o n s u m p t i o n of the mess of the actual. T h e will
h>w.uds survival in the organic sphere provides a figure for the aesthetic
urge towards structure, and the recapitulations, blind alleys and
idaptations of evolutionary d e v e l o p m e n t are replicated in the gradually
Unfolding p o e m series itself. It is impossible to reflect the scope and
m o v e m e n t of such a poetry in an anthology. I have preferred some of
I I K most nearly freestanding o r lyrical individual p o e m s o r passages, b u t
ill nine extracts yield their full significance only in the light of the m o r e
abstract, metaphysical material w h i c h surrounds t h e m . One Fond
Embrace, represented h e r e by its i n t r o d u c t o r y section, plays a
1111111>.t11stic variation on the voracity m e t a p h o r t o indict the materialism
ol I >IIMIII'S ruling class. T h i s late p o e m reintroduces a satirical, social
dimension m o r e or less absent from Kinsella's w o r k since
the Nigh/walker sequence of 1967.
 CHRYSALIDES

O u r last free s u m m e r w e m o o n e d a b o u t a t o d d h o u r s
P e d a l l i n g s l o w l y t h r o u g h c o u n t r y t o w n s , s t o p p i n g t o eat
C h o c o l a t e a n d fruit, t r a c i n g o u r v a g a r i e s o n t h e m a p .

At night we watched in the barn, to the lurch of m e l o d e o n

music,
T h e c r u n c h i n g boots of c o u n t r y m e n - huge and weightless
As their shadows - twirling and leaping over the yellow concrete.

S l e e p i n g t o o little o r t o o m u c h , w e a w o k e a t n o o n
A n d were received with w o m a n l y mockery into the kitchen,
L i k e calves p o k i n g o u r faces i n w i t h e n o r m o u s h u n g e r .

Daily w e strapped o u r saddlebags and w e n t t o e x p e r i e n c e

A t o l e r a n c e w e shall n e v e r k n o w a g a i n , c o n f u s i n g
F o r t h e last t i m e , for e x a m p l e , t h e licit a n d t h e familiar.

O u r instincts blurred w i t h c h a n g e ; a strange wakefulness

Sapped o u r energies and dulled o u r slow-beating hearts
T o t h e e x t r e m e s o f f e e l i n g - i n s e n s i t i v e alike

T o the u n i q u e succession o f o u r youthful midnights,

W h e n b y a w i n d o w a b l a z e softly w i t h t h e v i r g i n m o o n
D r y scones and jugs of milk awaited us in the dark,

O r t o l a s t i n g h o r r o r : a w e d d i n g flight o f a n t s
S p a w n i n g t o its d e a t h , a m u t e p e r s p i r a t i o n
Glistening like drops of c o p p e r in o u r path.

from N O T E S FROM T H E LAND OF T H E DEAD

HEN WOMAN

T h e n o o n heat in the yard

s m e l l e d o f stillness a n d c o m i n g t h u n d e r .
A h e n scratched and picked at the shore.
I t s t o p p e d , its b o d y c r o u c h e d a n d p u f f e d o u t .
T h e b r o o d i n g s i l e n c e s e e m e d t o say ' H u s h . . . '

T h e cottage d o o r opened,
a black hole
in a w h i t e w a s h e d w a l l so b r i g h t
t h e eyes n a r r o w e d .
Inside, a clock m u r m u r e d ' G o n g . . .'

( f p i a d felt all this b e f o r e . . .)

She h u r r i e d o u t in h e r slippers
m u t t e r i n g , h e r face d a r k w i t h a n g e r ,
and gathered the hen up jerking
languidly. H e r hand fumbled.
T o o late. T o o late.

I t fixed m e w i t h its p e b b l e e y e s
(seeing w h a t m a d blur?).
A w h i t e egg s h o w e d in the sphincter;
m o u t h and beak opened together;
a n d t i m e s t o o d still.

N o t h i n g m o v e d : bird o r w o m a n ,
fumbled or fumbling - locked there
(as^I /must h a v e b e e n ) g a p i n g .

T h e r e was a tiny m o v e m e n t at my feet,

tiny and mechanical; I looked d o w n .
A beetle like a b r o n z e leaf
was i n c h i n g across t h e c e m e n t ,
c l a s p i n g w i t h small tarsi
a ball o f d u n g b i g g e r t h a n its b o d y .
I he serrated b r o w pressed the g r o u n d h u m b l y ,
lifted in a s h o r t s t a r e , b o w e d a g a i n ;
the dung-ball advanced minutely,
l o s i n g a few f r a g m e n t s ,
s p e c k s o f staleness a n d freshness.

W.I
A m u t t e r o f t h u n d e r far off
- time not quite stopped.
I saw t h e egg had m o v e d a fraction:
a tender blank brain
Zander t o r s i o n , a c l e a n n e w w o r l d .

As I w a t c h e d , the mystery c o m p l e t e d .
T h e b l a c k z e r o o f t h e orifice
c l o s e d to a p o i n t
a n d t h e w h i t e z e r o o f t h e e g g h u n g free,
f l e c k e d w i t h g r e e n i s h b r o w n oils.

I t s l o w l y t u r n e d a n d fell.
D r e a m l i k e , fussed b y h e r s p l a y e d f i n g e r s ,
it floated outward, m o o n - w h i t e ,
l e a v i n g n o t r a c e i n t h e air,
a n d b e g a n its d r o p t o t h e s h o r e .

I f e e d u p o n it still, as y o u s e e ;
there is no e n d to that w h i c h ,
not understood, may yet be noted
and hoarded in the imagination,
i n t h e y o l k o f one_'s b e i n g , s o t o s p e a k ,
t h e r e t o u n d e r g o its ( q u i t e a n i m a l ) g r o w t h ,
j dividing blindly,
t w i t c h i n g , p a c k e d w i t h will,
s e a r c h i n g i n its o w n tissue
for t h e s t r u c t u r e
in which it may wake.
S o m e t h i n g that had - clenched
in its c a v e - n o t b e e n
n o w was: a n egg o f b e i n g .
T h r o u g h w h a t s e e m e d a w h o l e y e a r i t fell
- as it still falls, for m e ,
solid a n d l i g h t , t h e r e d g o l d b e a t i n g
i n its silvery w o m b ,
alive a s t h e y o l k a n d w h i t e
of my. e y e ; as it will c o n t i n u e
to fall, p r o b a b l y , until I d i e .

If..'
 t h r o u g h t h e vast i n d i f f e r e n t spaces
with which I am empty.

I t s m a s h e d against t h e g r a t i n g
a n d slipped d o w n q u i c k l y o u t o f sight.
It w a s o v e r in a c o m i c a l flash.
T h e soft m u c o u s shell c l u n g a little l o n g e r ,
then drained d o w n .
She stood staring, in blank anger.
T h e n h e r e y e s c a m e t o life, a n d s h e l a u g h e d
a n d let t h e b i r d flap a w a y .
' I t ' s all t h e o n e .
T h e r e ' s plenty m o r e w h e r e that c a m e from!'

H e n to pan!
It w a s a s i m p l e w o r l d .

ANCESTOR

I w a s g o i n g u p t o say s o m e t h i n g ,
a n d s t o p p e d . H e r p r o f i l e against t h e c u r t a i n s
was old, a n d dark like a h u n t i n g bird's.

It was t h e w a y she p e r c h e d on the high stool,

s t a r i n g i n t o herself, w i t h o n e fist
g r i p p i n g t h e side o f t h e b a r r i e r a r o u n d h e r d e s k
- or her head held by s o m e t h i n g , from inside.
A n d n o t c a r i n g for a n y t h i n g a r o u n d h e r
or a n y o n e t h e r e by the shelves.
I c a u g h t a faint s m e l l , m u s k y a n d q u e e r .

I m a y have m a d e s o m e s o u n d - she s t o p p e d r o c k i n g
a n d p r e s s e d h e r fist i n h e r l a p ; t h e n s h e s t o o d u p
a n d s h u t d o w n t h e lid o f t h e d e s k , a n d t u r n e d t h e k e y .
S h e s h o v e d a small b o t t l e u n d e r h e r a p r o n s
and came toward m e , darkening the passageway.

Ancestor . . . a m o n g s w e e t - and fruit-boxes.

I lei I'l.u k heart . . .
W a s dial a sigh?

\(,\
- brushing by me in the shadows,
with her heaped aprons, through the red hangings
t o the scullery, and d o w n t o t h e b a c k r o o m .

TEAR

I w a s s e n t in to see h e r .
A fringe o f j e t d r o p s
chattered at my ear
as I w e n t in t h r o u g h t h e hangings.

I was s w a l l o w e d in c h a m b e r y dusk.
My heart shrank
at the smell of disused
organs and sour kidney.

T h e black aprons I used to

b u r y m y face i n
w e r e folded at the foot of the b e d
i n t h e last w a t e r y l i g h t f r o m t h e w i n d o w

( G o i n a n d say g o o d b y e t o h e r )
a n d I w a s c a r r i e d off
to unfathomable depths.
I t u r n e d to l o o k at her.

She stared at t h e ceiling

and puffed h e r c h e e k , distracted,
propped high in the bed
r e s t i n g for t h e n e x t a t t a c k .

T h e covers w e r e g a t h e r e d close
up to her mouth,
t h a t t h e l i n e s o f i l l - t e m p e r still
m a r k e d . H e r grey hair

was l o o s e n e d o u t like
a y o u n g w o m a n ' s all o v e r
the pillow, mixed with the shadows
criss-crossing h e r forehead

IM
and at h e r m o u t h and eyes,
like a w e b of strands tying d o w n h e r h e a d
and tangling d o w n toward the shadow
e a t i n g a w a y t h e f l o o r a t m y feet.

I c o u l d n ' t stir a t first, n o r w i s h e d t o ,

for fear s h e m i g h t t u r n a n d t e m p t m e
(my o w n father's m o t h e r )
with open m o u t h

- w i t h s o m e fierce w h e e d l i n g w h i s p e r -
t o h i d e m y s e l f o n e last t i m e
against h e r , a n d b u r y m y
self i n h e r d r y i n g m u d .

W a s I t o kiss h e r ? A s s o o n
kiss t h e d a m p t h a t c r e p t
i n t h e f l o w e r e d walls
o f this p i t .

Y e t I h a d t o kiss.
I knelt by the bulk of the death bed
a n d s a n k m y face i n t h e chill
and smell of h e r black aprons.

S n u f f a n d m u s k , t h e folds against m y e y e l i d s ,
carried me i n t o a derelict place
s m e l l i n g o f ash: u n s e e n walls a n d r o o f s
r u s t l e d like b r e a t h i n g .

I found myself disturbing

d e a d ashes for a n y t r a c e
o f w a r m t h , w h e n far off
in t h e v a u l t s a single d r o p

splashed. A n d I f o u n d
w h a t I w a s l o o k i n g for
n o t h e a t n o r fire,
not a n y c o m f o r t ,
b u t h e r v o i c e , soft, t a l k i n g t o s o m e o n e
a b o u t m y father: ' G o d h e l p h i m , h e c r i e d
b i g tears o v e r t h e r e b y t h e m a c h i n e
for t h e p o o r little t h i n g . ' B r i g h t

d r o p s o n t h e w o o d e n lid for
m y i n f a n t sister. M y o w n
wail of child-animal grief
was s o o n d o n e , w i t h a n y early guess

a t sad d u l l n e s s a n d t e d i o u s p a i n
a n d lives b i t t e r w i t h h a r d b o n d a g e .
H o w I tasted it n o w -
her heart beating in my m o u t h !

She d r e w an uncertain breath

and pushed at the clothes
and s h u d d e r e d tiredly.
I b r o k e free

a n d left t h e r o o m
promising myself
w h e n s h e w a s really d e a d
I w o u l d really kiss.

M y grandfather half l o o k e d u p
f r o m t h e fireplace as I c a m e o u t ,
and shrugged and turned back
w i t h a d e a f stare t o t h e h e a t .

I f i d g e t e d b e s i d e h i m for a m i n u t e
and w e n t out to the shop.
I t w a s still b r i g h t t h e r e
a n d I felt b e t t e r a b l e t o b r e a t h e .

O l d age can digest

anything: the c o m m o t i o n
at H e a v e n ' s g a t e - t h e s t r u g g l e
in s t o r e for y o u all y o u r life.
 H o w long and hard it is
before you get to H e a v e n ,
unless like little A g n e s
y o u v a n i s h w i t h early tears.

from O N E

38 PHOENIX STREET

Look.
I w a s lifted up
past r o t t e n b r i c k s w e e d s
to l o o k o v e r the wall.
A m a m m y lifted u p a b a b y o n t h e o t h e r s i d e .
D u s t y smells. C a t . F l o w e r bells
hanging d o w n purple red.

Look.
T h e other. Looking.
My finger picked at a bit of dirt
on t o p of t h e wall and a q u i c k
wiry redgolden thing
ran b a c k d o w n a little h o l e .

*
W e k n e l t u p o n o u r chairs i n t h e l a m p l i g h t
and leaned on the b r o w n plush, watching the g r a m o p h o n e .
T h e t u r n i n g r e c o r d s h o n e a n d hissed
u n d e r t h e n e e d l e , liftfalling, liftfalling.
J o h n M c C o r m a c k c h a t t e r e d i n his b o x .

T w o little t o n g u e s o f f l a m e b u r n e d
in the lamp c h i m n e y , w a v e r i n g
t h e i r tips. O n t h e glassy b e l l y
little d r a w n o u t i m a g e s q u i v e r e d .
J i m m y ' s m a m m y was d r y i n g t h e d e l p h i n t h e s h a d o w s .

167
M i s t e r C u m m i n s always h u n c h e d d o w n
sad a n d still b e s i d e t h e s t o v e ,
w i t h his face t u r n e d a w a y t o w a r d t h e b a r s .
H i s m o u t h s o c a l m , a n d a l w a y s set s o sadly.
A b l a c k r u b b e r y scar s t u c k o n his w h i t e f o r e h e a d .

S e a l e d i n his sad c a v e . H i s s h o r r o r e r e c t i n g
s l o w l y o u t o f its r o c k n e s t s , n o s i n g t h e air.
H e w a s b u r i e d for t h r e e days u n d e r a hill o f d e a d ,
t h e faces c o n g e s t e d d o w n all r o u n d h i m ,
g r i n n i n g Dardanelles! in t h e d a r k .

T h e y noticed him by a thread of blood

g l i s t e n i n g a m o n g t h e b l a c k crusts o n his f o r e h e a d .
H i s h e a r t g a t h e r e d all its w e a k n e s s , t o b e a t .

A w o r m h a n g i n g d o w n , its little r o u n d
b l a c k m o u t h o p e n . Sad f a t h e r .

I spent the night there once

i n a s t r a n g e r o o m , t u c k e d i n against t h e w a l l p a p e r
o n t h e o t h e r side o f o u r o w n b e d r o o m w a l l .

Up in a corner of the darkness the Sacred Heart

l e a n e d d o w n i n his l o n g c l o t h e s o v e r a r e d oil l a m p
w i t h his w o m e n ' s b l a c k h a i r a n d his e y e s lit u p i n r e d
hurt and blaming. He held out the Heart
w i t h his w o m e n ' s fingers, l i k e a t o y .

T h e lamp-wick, with a tiny head

o f r e d fire, w r i g g l e d i n its p o o l .
T h e shadows flickered: the H e a r t beat!

HIS FATHER'S H A N D S

I d r a n k firmly
a n d set t h e glass d o w n b e t w e e n u s firmly.
Y o u w e r e saying.

I6H
M y father.
W a s saying.

H i s finger p r o d d e d a n d p r o d d e d ,
m a r r i n g his p o i n t . E m p h a s -
emphasemphasis.

I have w a t c h e d
his father's h a n d s b e f o r e h i m

cupped, and tightening the black Plug

b e t w e e n knife and t h u m b ,
c a r v i n g off little c u r l i c u e s
t o r u b t h e m i n t h e d a r k o f his p a l m s ,

o r c u t t i n g i n t o n e w l e a t h e r a t his b e n c h ,
l e v e r i n g a g r o o v e o p e n w i t h his t h u m b ,
i n s i n u a t i n g w e t sprigs for t h e h a m m e r .

H e k e p t t h e sprigs i n m o u t h f u l s
a n d b r o u g h t t h e m o u t i n silvery
u n i t s b e t w e e n his lips.

I t o o k a p i n c h o u t of their hole
and k n o c k e d t h e m o n e by o n e into the w o o d ,
bright points a m o n g h u n d r e d s g o n e black,
other children's - cousins and others, g r o w n u p .

O r his b o w h a n d scarcely m o v i n g ,
s c r a p i n g i n t h e d a r k c o r n e r n e a r t h e fire,
his p l u m p fingers s h i f t i n g o n t h e strings.

T o his deaf, i n c l i n e d h e a d
h e h u g g e d t h e fiddle's b o d y ,
whispering with the tune

with breaking heart

w h e n ' e r I hear
in p r i v a c y , across a b l o c k e d v o i d .

hi'*
the w i n d that shakes t h e barley.
The wind.. .
r o u n d her grave. ..

o n m y breast i n b l o o d she d i e d . . .
B u t b l o o d for b l o o d w i t h o u t r e m o r s e
I've ta'en. . .

B e y o n d that.

Y o u r family, T h o m a s , m e t w i t h a n d h e l p e d
m a n y of the Croppies in hiding from the Y e o s
o r o n t h e i r w a y h o m e after t h e d e f e a t
in south W e x f o r d . T h e y sheltered the Laceys
w h o w e r e later h a n g e d o n t h e Bridge i n Ballinglen
between Tinahely and Anacorra.

F r o m h e a r s a y , as far as I c a n tell
the M e n Folk w e r e either Stone Cutters
or masons or probably both.
I n t h e 18
a n d late 1700s e v e n t h e f a r m e r s
had s o m e o t h e r trade to m a k e a living.

T h e y lived in Farnese a m o n g a C o l o n y
o f N o r t h o f I r e l a n d o r S c o t c h settlers left t h e r e
i n s o m e o f t h e dispersals o r m i g r a t i o n s
w h i c h o c c u r r e d i n this A r e a o f W i c k l o w a n d W e x f o r d
a n d C a r l o w . A n d s o m e years before that t i m e
the Family came from s o m e w h e r e a r o u n d T u l l o w .

B e y o n d that.

L i t t e r e d u p l a n d s . D e n s e grass. R o c k s e v e r y w h e r e ,
w e t u n d e r n e a t h , retaining m e m o r y of the l o n g cold.

First, a p r o w of l a n d
c h o s e n , a n d w e b b e d w i t h tra<

I /(»
then boulders chosen
a n d sloped t o g e t h e r , stabilized in m e n a c e .

I d o n o t l i k e this p l a c e .
I do n o t t h i n k the p e o p l e w h o lived h e r e
w e r e e v e r h a p p y . I t feels evil.
Terrible things h a p p e n e d .
I feel afraid h e r e w h e n I a m o n m y o w n .

Dispersals o r m i g r a t i o n s .
T h r o u g h w h a t evolutions or accidents
t o w a r d that peace and patience
b y t h e fireside, t h a t b l o c k e d g e n t l e n e s s . . .

T h a t serene pause, w i t h t h e slashing knife,

in kindly mockery,
a s I b u s y m y s e l f w i t h m y little nails
a t t h e r u d e b l o c k , his b e n c h .

T h e blood advancing
- g o r g i n g vessel after vessel -
and altering in t h e m
one by one.

B e h o l d , that gentleness already

modulated twice, in others:
to earnestness and iteration;

to an offhandedness, repressing various impulses.

E x t r a o r d i n a r y . . . T h e big block - I f o u n d it
years a f t e r w a r d i n a c o r n e r o f t h e y a r d
in s u n l i g h t after r a i n
and stood it u p , w e t and black:
i t t u r n e d u n d e r m y h a n d s , a n axis
o l light Mashing d o w n its l e n g t h ,
a n d t h e w o o d s soft f l e s h b r o k e o p e n ,
i o i u i l l c s s little nails
s q u i r m i n g a n d d r o p p i n g o u t o l it.

i /I
 from ANNIVERSARIES

1956

Fifteen m i n u t e s or t h e r e a b o u t s
of Prelude and Liebestod
- elephant into orgasm -
and I was about ready.

I c r o o k e d my foot
around the chair-leg
a n d m y fingers a r o u n d
t h e p e n , a n d set

the star-dome
creaking with music
at absolute zero
across t h e b a n k r u p t n i g h t .

A c o u p l e of h u n d r e d yards a r o u n d the c o r n e r
i n a m o o n - f l o o d e d office i n M e r r i o n S t r e e t
m y F i n a n c e files d r e a m e d ,
p r o p p e d at the ledge,

m y desk m o v e d
infinitesimally.
O v e r the entire country,
o v e r m a r k e t a n d h a r b o u r , i n silvery l i g h t ,

emanations of government
materialised and e m b r a c e d
d o w n w a r d and began
metaphysically to bite.

A small h e r d of friends
s t a r e d b a c k f r o m t h e M a i l b o a t rail.
A mongrel dog lapped
in a deserted t o w n square.
 A book came
fluttering out of the dark
and flapped
at the w i n d o w .

from T H E MESSENGER

It is an August e v e n i n g , in W i c k l o w .
I t i s g e t t i n g late. T h e y h a v e tussled i n l o v e .
T h e y are h i d d e n , n e a r t h e r i v e r b a n k .
T h e y lie face u p i n t h e grass, n o t t o u c h i n g ,
h e a d close t o h e a d , a w o m a n a n d h e r s e c r e t h u s b a n d .
A gossamer ghost a r r o w s a n d hesitates

o u t o f t h e r e e d s , a n d s t a n d s i n t h e air a b o v e t h e m
i n s e c t - s h i m m e r i n g , a n d settles o n a b r i g h t
i n n e r u p t u r n o f h e r dress. T h e w i n g s

close u p like p a l m s . T h e b o d y , a glass w o r m ,

is pulsing. T h e tail-tip w i n c e s and quivers:

I think this is w h e r e I c o m e in . ..

Trailing a sunless instinct,

a saw-jawed multiple past,
an edible (almost liquid)
vulnerability,
and winged! - weightless and wondrous! -
up from the bloodied slime
through the arms of a black rainbow
scooping down in beauty
he has come, he has arisen
out of the pool of night!

It is! It is!
I lurry!
says t h e great w o m b - w h i s p e r .
Q u i t k!
I .mi all e g g !

173
 from O U T OF IRELAND

HARMONIES

S e a m u s o f the Smart Suit, b o x player, m a d e

signals t o u s across t h e grass t u s s o c k s a n d g r a v e s
t h e d a y w e all c a m e d o w n f r o m C o r k
t o c o m m e m o r a t e o u r musical friend.

By Gobnait's sculpted l u m p
- a slab of a w o m a n on a frieze
of stone buds and the locked bodies of bees -
h e s t r u g g l e d i n his n o s e w i t h E n g l i s h ,

s h o w i n g the H o l y Stations and instructing

w i t h rigid finger a n d embarrassed snorts,
his b o x s q u e e z e d s h u t b a c k i n t h e h o u s e
w i t h M á i r t í n ' s p i p e s a n d t h e p a i r o f fiddles,

the same instruments, ranging together

in natural sweetness, w i t h a m a n y - s o u n d e d
a n d single v o i c e , that gave I o h a n n e s S c o t u s
- Eriugena, and instructing the k n o w n world -

his h a r m o n i o u s c e r t a i n t y : t h a t t h e w o r l d ' s p a r t s ,
ill-fitted i n t h e i r stresses a n d t h e i r p a i n s ,
w i l l c o m b i n e a t last i n p o l y p h o n i c s w e e t - b r e a t h i n g u n i o n
a n d all c r e a t e d N a t u r e a s c e n d l i k e j o i n e d a n g e l s ,

limbs and bodies departing the touch of Earth

static i n a d a n c e o f r e t u r n , all M a n k i n d g a t h e r e d
stunned at the world's edge
silent in a c h o i r of u n d e r s t a n d i n g .

from O N E F O N D EMBRACE

Enough
is e n o u g h :

p o r i n g (>vei ili.it organi< p o t .

i /I
I k n u c k l e d my eyes.
T h e i r d r y i n g jellies
a n s w e r e d w i t h speckles and images.

T i m e s p u r t e d i n t h e n a r r o w s o f m y wrists
c h a n n e l l e d , for t h e m o m e n t , w h e r e I c h o o s e .
I leaned back and stretched

a n d e m b r a c e d all
this h e a r t h a n d h o m e
e c h o i n g w i t h the ghosts

of prides and joys,

bicycles and holy terrors,
o u r g r o w n and scattered loves.

A n d all this p l a c e
w h e r e (it o c c u r s t o m e )
I n e v e r w a n t t o b e a n y w h e r e else.

W h e r e the particulars conspire.

W h i c h i s n o t t o say
s e r e n i t y a n d t h e i n t e r p l a y o f friends

b u t t h e b r i c k walls
o f this s a g g i n g d i s t r i c t , against w h i c h
i t alerts m e t o k n o c k m y h e a d .

W i t h a scruffy N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y
history of half-finished
c o l o n i a l s a n d u p s t a r t s . Still w i t h us.

W i t h a half c h a r m ,
half gracious, spacious,
and a miscellaneous vigour.

Sniffed at. O u r n e i g h b o u r h o o d d e v e l o p e r
t h i n k i n g b i g i n his soiled c r o m b i e .
T h e rodent e l e m e n t bidding out
- a n d w h o will d e n y t h e m
a desirable nest, s e m i - d e t a c h e d ,
and a p o u n d in the pocket?

Catholic Action next door:

t h e d o u b l e l o o k o v e r t h e half curtain;
social w o r k e r s h e r d i n g t h e i r p r o b l e m s

i n off t h e s t r e e t
w i t h s n o o k e r cues and rosary beads;
Knights of Mercedes and the naked bulb

p a r k e d a t large a l o n g b o t h p a t h s
in witness that the p o o r
are b e i n g given a party.

Invisible speculators, urinal architects

and the Corporation hand in hand
in potent compliant dance

flourishing their C o m p u l s o r y Purchase Orders

- a sovereign tool contrived
for d i g g i n g o u t o u r A l i e n B e a u t i e s

in their metaphysical prime

(dug in t h o u g h absentee)
e m p l o y e d in easement of o u r o w n native beauties,

p l a n n e r s o f t h e w i p e d slate
b e n t painstaking o v e r a b u n g l e d city
to t u r n it i n t o a z o o :

Southward from Fatima Mansions

i n t o t h e foothills
to w h e r e the transplanted can t r u d g e

f r o m C h e r r y f i e l d H e i g h t s via W o o d b i n e C r e s c e n t
t h r o u g h B r i d g e t ' s T e r r a c e a n d K e n n e d y ' s Villas
by Ard na Gréine and O i l na Gaoithe

l /(i
t o S h a n g r i - L a for a b o t t l e o f m i l k ;
N o r t h w a r d past o u r t w i n n e d e x p e r i m e n t a l
c o n c r e t e p i s s - t o w e r s for t h e u n d e r p r i v i l e g e d ;

and at the heart, w h e r e the river runs

t h r o u g h V i k i n g ghosts at every tide
past a set of s h a d o w s t r u c t u r e s

t h a t o u r city f a t h e r s , f u m b l i n g i n t h e i r s h a d o w b u d g
b e h e l d in v i s i o n for a w h i l e ,
p u l v e r i s i n g u n t i l t h e cash failed,

l a y i n g flat a n e n d u r i n g m o n u m e n t t o t h e m s e l v e s ,
a n office car p a r k s u n k d e e p i n h i s t o r y .
M a y t h e i r s e w e r s blast u n d e r t h e m !

A sluggish c r e a t u r e
a n d difficult t o h o u s e - t r a i n ,
i t s p a t t e r s its o w n n e s t .

D i r t y m o n e y g i v e s d i r t y access.
A n d we were the generation
of positive disgrace.

And I want to throw my pen down.

A n d I w a n t t o t h r o w m y self d o w n
and h a n g loose over s o m e vault of peace.

i • '
 J O H N M O N T A G U E

B o r n Brooklyn, 1929. Raised in C o u n t y T y r o n e by his aunts from 1933.

Educated St Patrick's College, A r m a g h , and University College Dublin.
A t t e n d e d postgraduate and writers' courses at a series of American
universities, 1 9 5 3 - 6 . Publicity officer for Bord Fáilte, 1 9 5 6 - 9 . Settled in
Paris, 1961, with periods teaching in Berkeley, California (1964, 1965),
and University College D u b l i n , 1 9 6 7 - 7 1 . Lecturer in University
College C o r k , 1 9 7 2 - 8 8 . D.Litt. from State University of N e w York,
1987. Visiting professor at University of Albany, 1 9 8 9 - . Editor of The
Faber Book of Irish Verse (1974) and Bitter Harvest (1989). M o n t a g u e has
published t w o works of fiction, Death of a Chieftain and Other Stories
(1964) and Tlie Lost Notebook (1987). The Figure in the Cave and Other
Essays appeared in 1989.

T h e aesthetic at o n c e r e c o m m e n d e d and e m b o d i e d in '11 rue D a g u e r r e '

serves the tactfully symbolic art o f ' A D r i n k of Milk', ' T h e T r o u t ' and
o t h e r early p o e m s by J o h n M o n t a g u e . As his career evolved, h o w e v e r ,
M o n t a g u e b e c a m e less interested in a poetry of implication than in an
imaginative engagement w i t h history and politics. Conscious of his status
as the first northern Catholic p o e t of international stature since the
settlement of 1922, he evinces in his w o r k an almost bardic sense of
responsibility towards the N o r t h ' s minority c o m m u n i t y and the
dispossessed Gaelic world from w h i c h it derives. T w o b o o k - l e n g t h
sequences, Tfie Rough Field (1972) and Tfte Dead Kingdom (1984),
measure the b r o k e n history of the poet's family against the disruptions ol
centuries of conflict in T y r o n e and Ireland generally. ( T h e second ol
these is perhaps the m o r e successful, and certainly the m o r e integrated
w o r k : its d o m i n a n t seven-syllable line, subtly interstitched with phrases
of popular song, marks a considerable technical achievement. As the
p o w e r of this poetry is cumulative, h o w e v e r , The Dead Kingdom is not
represented here.) M o n t a g u e has seemed to m a n y to be at his best in tin
short lyric of personal experience - frequently the love p o e m - in W I I K h
he displays the steady empirical fidelity p r o m o t e d by '11 rue Daguerre'
An art of underemphasis and curtailment, his poetry can raise-
reticence to the status of e l o q u e n c e .

I /H
I.IKE DOLMENS R O U N D MY C H I L D H O O D , T H E OLD PEOPLE

Like d o l m e n s r o u n d m y c h i l d h o o d , t h e old p e o p l e .

J a m i e M a c C r y s t a l s a n g t o himself,
A broken song without tune, without words;
He tipped me a p e n n y every pension day,
F e d k i n d l y crusts t o w i n t e r b i r d s .
W h e n h e d i e d , his c o t t a g e w a s r o b b e d ,
Mattress and m o n e y b o x t o r n and searched.
O n l y the corpse they didn't disturb.

Maggie O w e n s was s u r r o u n d e d by animals,

A mongrel bitch and shivering pups,
Even in her b e d r o o m a she-goat cried.
S h e w a s a w e l l o f gossip d e f d e d ,
banged chronicler of a w h o l e countryside:
R e p u t e d a w i t c h , all I c o u l d find
Was her lonely n e e d to deride.

T h e Nialls lived a l o n g a m o u n t a i n lane

W h e r e h e a t h e r bells b l o o m e d , c l u m p s o f f o x g l o v e .
All w e r e b l i n d , w i t h B l i n d P e n s i o n a n d W i r e l e s s ,
I )ead eyes serpent-flicked as o n e e n t e r e d
To shelter from a d o w n p o u r of m o u n t a i n rain.
( rickets chirped under the rocking hearthstone
U n t i l the m u d d y sun s h o n e o u t again.

Mary M o o r e lived in a c r u m b l i n g gatehouse,

F a m o u s as Pisa for its l e a n i n g g a b l e .
B a g - a p r o n a n d b o o t s , s h e t r a m p e d t h e fields
I h i v i n g l e a n c a t t l e f r o m a m i r y stable.
A b y - w o r d for f i e r c e n e s s , s h e fell asleep
< )ver l o v e stories, R e d Star a n d R e d C i r c l e ,
I > r e a m e d o f gypsy l o v e r i t e s , b y firelight s e a l e d .

W i l d Billy E a g l e s o n m a r r i e d a C a t h o l i c s e r v a n t girl
W h e n all Ins Loyal family passed o n :
W e d a n c e d r o u n d h i m s h o u t i n g ' T o 1 lell w i t h K i n g Billy',
A n d d o d g e d from t h e arc o f h i s flailing b l a c k t h o r n ,
f o r s a k e n b v b o t h i r e e d s , h e s h o w e d little * O I K e r n
U n t i l t h e O r a n g e d r u m s b a n g e d past i n t h e s u m m e r
A n d b o w l e r a n d sash a g g r e s s i v e l y s h o n e .

Curate and doctor trudged to attend t h e m ,

T h r o u g h k n e e - d e e p snow, t h r o u g h s u m m e r heat,
F r o m main road to lane to b r o k e n path,
G u l p i n g t h e m o u n t a i n air w i t h p a i n f u l b r e a t h .
Sometimes they were found by neighbours,
Silent keepers of a smokeless hearth,
S u d d e n l y cast i n t h e m o u l d o f d e a t h .

A n c i e n t Ireland, indeed! I was reared by h e r bedside,

T h e r u n e a n d t h e c h a n t , evil e y e a n d a v e r t e d h e a d ,
F o m o r i a n fierceness o f f a m i l y a n d l o c a l f e u d .
G a u n t figures o f fear a n d o f f r i e n d l i n e s s ,
F o r years t h e y t r e s p a s s e d o n m y d r e a m s ,
U n t i l o n c e , i n a s t a n d i n g circle o f s t o n e s ,
I felt t h e i r s h a d o w s pass

Into that dark p e r m a n e n c e of ancient forms.

THE TROUT

Flat o n t h e b a n k I p a r t e d
R u s h e s t o ease m y h a n d s
In the w a t e r w i t h o u t a ripple
A n d tilt t h e m s l o w l y d o w n s t r e a m
T o w h e r e h e lay, t e n d r i l l i g h t ,
I n his fluid s e n s u a l d r e a m .

Bodiless lord of creation

I h u n g briefly a b o v e h i m
Savouring m y o w n absence
Senses e x p a n d i n g i n t h e s l o w
M o t i o n , the p h o t o g r a p h i c calm
T h a t grows before action.

As the curve of my hands

S w u n g u n d e i Ins b o d y

I Ml I
H e s u r g e d , w i t h visible p l e a s u r e .
I w a s so p r e t e r n a t u r a l l y c l o s e
I c o u l d c o u n t every stipple
B u t still cast n o s h a d o w , u n t i l

T h e t w o palms crossed in a cage

U n d e r t h e l i g h t l y p u l s i n g gills.
T h e n (entering m y o w n enlarged
Shape, w h i c h rode on the water)
I g r i p p e d . T o this d a y I c a n
T a s t e his t e r r o r o n m y h a n d s .

A DRINK OF MILK

In the girdered dark

o f t h e b y r e , cattle m o v e ;
w a r m engines hushed
to a s i d i n g g r o o v e

b e f o r e t h e s w i t c h flicks
d o w n for m i l k i n g .
In concrete partitions
t h e y rattle their chains

w h i l e t h e f a r m h a n d eases
r u b b e r tentacles to t u g
lightly b u t rhythmically
on their swollen dugs

a n d up t h e pale cylinders
of the milking machine
mounts an untouched
steadily pulsing stream.

O n l y t h e t a b b y steals
t o d i p its r a d a r w h i s k e r s
w i t h o l d f a s h i o n e d relish
in a c h i p p e d s a i u er

i HI
 and before Seán lurches
t o k i c k his b o o t s off
in the night-silent kitchen
he draws a m u g of froth

t o settle o n t h e s i d e b o a r d
u n d e r t h e h o a r d o f delft.
A p o u n d i n g transistor shakes
the Virgin on h e r shelf

as he dreams towards bed.

A last g l a n c e at a m a g a z i n e ,
h e p u t s t h e m u g t o his h e a d ,
grunts, a n d drains it clean.

from A C H O S E N LIGHT

I 11 R U E D A G U E R R E

At night, s o m e t i m e s , w h e n I c a n n o t sleep
I go to t h e atelier d o o r
A n d smell t h e earth of the garden.

It e x h a l e s softly,
Especially n o w , a p p r o a c h i n g s p r i n g t i m e ,
W h e n tendrils o f g r e e n are plaited

A c r o s s t h e h u m u s , d e s p e r a t e l y frail
I n t h e i r passage against
T h e dark, u n r e d e e m e d parcels o f earth.

T h e r e is w h i t e light on the cobblestones

A n d in the apartment house opposite -
All f o u r floors - s i l e n c e .

In t h a t stillness - soft b u t l u m i n o u s l y e x a c t ,
A chosen light - I notice that
T h e tips o f t h e lately grafted c h e r r y - t r e e

A r e a firm a n d l a c q u e r e d black.

IH.»
 FAMILY C O N F E R E N C E

W h e n t h e wall b e t w e e n h e r a n d g h o s t
r
W e a r s t h i n , t h e n snuff, sgittor^rij, /ytux-p^
S o o t h i n g drink c a n n o t restrain:
S h e ransacks t h e e m p t y h o u s e .
T h e latch, creaks w i t h t h e v o i c e
Of a husband, the crab of death
S e t i n his b o w e l s , e v e n t h e soft m o o n
C a u g h t i n the b a t h r o o m w i n d o w
Is a grieving w o m a n , her m o t h e r
S e a r c h i n g for h o m e i n t h e A s y l u m .
W h a t a w a i t s , s h e n o l o n g e r fears
A s d a w n paints i n t h e f e w t r e e s
Of h e r landscape, a rusty shed
A n d garden. Today grandchildren
C a l l , b u t w h a t has s h e t o say
T o the b u o y a n t living, w h o m a y
Raise f a m i l y secrets w i t h t h e d e a d ?

THE SAME GESTURE

T h e r e is a s e c r e t r o o m
of golden light w h e r e
everything - love, violence,
h a t r e d is p o s s i b l e ;
a n d , again l o v e .

Such intimacy of hand

and m i n d is achieved
u n d e r its h e a l i n g l i g h t
t h a t t h e shifting o f
h a n d s is a rite

like c o u r t m u s i c .
W e barely k n o w o u r
selves t h e r e t h o u g h
it is w h a t we a l w a y s w e r e
most n a k e d l y .ue

IM
 and must r e m e m b e r
w h e n w e leave, r e -
s u m i n g o u r habits
with o u r clothes:
w o r k , p h o n e , drive

t h r o u g h late traffic
c h a n g i n g gears w i t h
the same gesture as
eased y o u r s n o w b o u n d
heart and flesh.

LAST J O U R N E Y
X.M.James Montague

W e stand t o g e t h e r
on the w i n d y platform;
h o w crisp t h e rails
r u n n i n g o u t o f sight
t h r o u g h t h e w e t fields!

C a r n e y , the station master,

is p e e r i n g o v e r
his f r o s t e d w i n d o w :
t h e h a n d o f t h e signal
points d o w n .

C r o w n e d with churns
a cart creaks up t h e
incline of M a i n Street
to t h e sliding doors
of the C o - O p .

A s m e l l of c o a l ,
the train is c o m i n g . . .
y o u c l i m b slowly in,
propped by my hand to
a seat, b a c k t o t h e e n g i n e ,

I HI
and we leave, waving
a p l u m e of black s m o k e
over the rushy m e a d o w s ,
small hills & h i d d e n villag
Beragh, Carrickmore,

Pomeroy, Fintona -
p l a c e n a m e s t h a t sigh
like a pressed m e l o d e o n
across this f o r g o t t e n
N o r t h e r n landscape.

SMALL SECRETS

Where I work
out of doors
children c o m e
to present me
with an acorn
a pine cone -
small s e c r e t s -

a n d a fat
grass snail
w h o uncoils
t o c a r r y his
whorled house
over the top
o f m y table.

W i t h a pencil
I nudge him
back into
himself, b u t
fluid h o r n s
unfurl, d a m p
tentacles, to

IH'.
p r o b e , test
space b e f o r e
h e drags his
habitation
forward again
o n his s i n g l e
muscular foot

rippling along
its l i q u i d self-
creating path.
W i t h absorbed,
a n i m a l faces
the children
watch us both

b u t he will
have n o n e of
m e , t h e static
angular w o r l d
of b o o k s , papers -
w h i c h is neither
green nor moist -

only to climb
around, over
as w i t h rest-
less g l i s t e n i n g
e n e r g y , h e races
at full tilt
over the ledge

o n t o t h e grass.
All I am left
w i t h is, b e t w e e n
pine cone & acorn
t h e silver s m e a r
o f his p r o g r e s s
w h i c h will s o o n

\H(,
 w e a r off, l i k e
t h e silvery galaxies,
m o t h e r o f pearl
motorways, woven
across t h e grass
each m o r n i n g by
t h e tireless snails

of the world,
m i n u t e as grains
o f r i c e , gross
as c o n c h or
triton, bequeath-
i n g t h e i r shells
to the earth.

DOWAGER

I d w e l l i n this l e a k y W e s t e r n castle.
A m e r i c a n m a t r o n s w e a v e across t h e c a r p e t ,
S o r e f o o t e d as c a m e l s , a n d less useful.

S m o o t h I o n i c c o l u m n s h o l d u p a roof.
A c h a n d e l i e r s h i n e s on a f o x h o u n d ' s c o a t :
T h e grandson of a g r a n d m o t h e r I reared.

I n t h e o l d days I r e a d o r e m b r o i d e r e d ,
B u t n o w i t i s e n o u g h t o see t h e sky c h a n g e ,
Clouds extend or smother a mountain's shape.

W e t afternoons I ride in t h e Rolls;

W i n d s h i e l d w i p e r s f l a i l h e l p l e s s against t h e r a i n :
I t h r a s h t h r o u g h p o o l s l i k e s m a s h i n g p a n e s o f glass.

A n d t h e light a f t e r w a r d s ! H e d g e s s t e a m ,
I ride t h r o u g h a d a m p t u n n e l of sweetness,
T h e b o n n e t s t r e w n w i t h bridal h a w t h o r n

187
F r o m w h i c h a silver l a d y leaps, a l w a y s y o u n g .
A l o n e , I h u m w i t h satisfaction i n t h e s u n ,
An old bitch, w i t h a w a r m mouthful of game.

from T H E CAVE OF N I G H T

III CAVE

T h e rifled h o n e y c o m b
of the high-rise hotel
where a wind tunnel moans.
While jungleclad troops
r a n s a c k t h e Falls, r a c e
t h r o u g h h u d d l e d streets,
w e lie a w a k e , t h e w i d e
w i n d o w w a s h e d w i t h rain,
y o u r o v a l face, a n d t i d e
of yellow hair l u m i n o u s
a s y o u t u r n t o m e again
seeking refuge as t h e
cave of night b l o o m s
w i t h fresh e x p l o s i o n s .

HERBERT STREET REVISITED

for Madeleine

A l i g h t is b u r n i n g late
i n this G e o r g i a n D u b l i n street:
s o m e o n e i s l e a d i n g o u r o l d lives!

A n d o u r b l a c k cat s c a m p e r s again
t h r o u g h t h e w e t grass o f t h e c o n v e n t g a r d e n
u p o n his m a s c u l i n e e r r a n d s .

T h e pubs shut: a released bull,

Behan shoulders up the street,
topples into o u r basement, roaring 'John!'

I HH
A p o n y and d o n k e y cropped flank
b y f l a n k u n d e r t h e trees o p p o s i t e ;
short neck u p , l o n g neck d o w n ,

as Nurse Mullen knelt by her bedside

t o p r a y for h e r lost M a y o hills,
the bruised bodies of Easter V o l u n t e e r s .

Animals, neighbours, treading the pattern

of o n e t i m e and place into history,
like o u r early marriage, w h i l e

tall w i n d o w s l o o k e d d o w n u p o n u s
f r o m walls f l u s h e d l i g h t p i n k o r s a l m o n
w a t c h i n g and e n d u r i n g succession.

II

As I leave, y o u w h i s p e r ,
'don't betray our truth'
a n d like a g h o s t d a n c e r ,
i n v o k i n g a lost tribal s t r e n g t h
I h a l t in t r e e - f e d d a r k n e s s

t o s u m m o n b a c k o u r past,
and celebrate a love that eased
so kindly, the dying b o n e ,
e n a b l i n g t h e spirit t o s i n g
of old happiness, w h e n alone.

ill

So p u t t h e leaves b a c k on t h e tree,
put the tree back in the ground,
let B r e n d a n t r u n d l e his c o r p s e d o w n
t h e s t r e e t s i n g i n g , like M o l l y M a l o n e .

Let t h e b l a c k c a t , t i n y e m i s s a r y
o f o u r h a p p i n e s s , streak again
t h r o u g h t h e d a r k n e s s , t o tall soft
clawed into landlord's dustbin.

18V
L e t N u r s e M u l l e n t a k e t h e last
train to W e s t p o r t , a n d die u p r i g h t
in h e r chair, facing a w i n d o w
w a r m w i t h t h e b l u e slopes o f N e p h i n .

A n d let t h e p o n y a n d d o n k e y c o m e -
l o o k , s o m e o n e has left t h e g a t e o p e n -
like h o b b y h o r s e s l i n k e d i n
the slow m o t i o n of a dream

p a r a d i n g side b y s i d e , d o w n
the length of H e r b e r t Street,
r i s i n g a n d falling, lifting
their hooves through the moonlight.

I'M)
 J A M E S S I M M O N S

Born Derry, 1933. Educated at Foyle College, D e n y , Campbell

College, Belfast, and University of Leeds. T a u g h t at Friends' School,
Lisburn, 1 9 5 8 - 6 3 , and A h m a d u Bello University, Nigeria, 1 9 6 3 - 6 .
F o u n d e d the Honest Ulsterman, 1968. Lecturer in English and drama at
N e w University of Ulster, Coleraine, 1 9 6 8 - 8 6 . Presently co-director of
the Poets' H o u s e , a creative w r i t i n g school in P o r t m u c k , C o u n t y
Antrim. A singer-songwriter as well as a p o e t , S i m m o n s has
published a critical study, Sean O'Casey (1983).

Wary of rhetoric and of what he sees as the elitist assumptions of m u c h

m o d e r n verse, S i m m o n s adheres to traditional forms and a t o u g h ,
colloquially based poetic language. His characteristic idiom offers a
u c e t - w i s e counterpart to J o h n H e w i t t ' s Calvinistic neatness. T h e n o t e
of wry melancholy in the selected pieces is typical.

O N E OF T H E BOYS

O u r y o u t h w a s gay b u t r o u g h ,
m u c h drink and copulation.
If that seems n o t e n o u g h
blame our miseducation.
In shabby boarding houses
lips c o v e r e d lips,
and in o u r wild carouses
there were companionships.
C h e a p and m u n d a n e the setting
o f all t h a t w e r e m e m b e r :
in August, dance-hall petting,
cinemas in December.
N o w middle-aged I know,
and do not hide the truth,
u s e d o r m i s u s e d years g o
anil t a k e all k i n d s of y o u t h .
W e test t h e foreign s c e n e
o i g l o w t o o fat i n b a n k s ,

191
 s a l e s m e n for m a r g a r i n e ,
soldiers in tanks,
t h e g r e a t c a r e e r s all t r i c k s ,
t h e fine arts all m y arse,
business and politics
a c r u e l farce.
T h o u g h fear o f g e t t i n g fired
m a y ease, a n d w o r k is h a t e d
less, w e are t i r e d , t i r e d
and incapacitated.
O n golf courses, i n bars,
c r u t c h e d b y t h e cash w e e a r n ,
w e t h i n k o f n i g h t s i n cars
with energy to burn.

WEST STRAND VISIONS

T h e m a n alone a t the third floor w i n d o w

1
is t h e m a n a l o n e at t h e cliff s e d g e .
B e l o w h i m gulls are c u t t i n g e a c h o t h e r ' s
i n v i s i b l e p a t h s o f flight. B e n t s i d e w a y s
i n his c o c k p i t a b o v e t h e d o g - f i g h t
alone he observes engaging bi-planes
l o c k e d i n e a c h o t h e r ' s sights a n d s t r a t e g i e s ,
diving, swerving and climbing heavily,
a n d d r o n i n g e a r t h w a r d i n flames.

T h e m a n watching the pony-girl waving

o n t h e W e s t S t r a n d t o h e r t h r e e assistants
and suddenly rearing her horse and wheeling
off at a c a n t e r , f o l l o w e d by d o n k e y s
into t h e grey curtain of rain,
is the m a n w a t c h i n g barbarians gather,
T a m b u r l a i n e , w a s it, o r G e n g h i s K h a n ,
shaggy in robes strange to the w a t c h e r ,
returned from reconnoitring,
deciding and acting on G o d ' s plan.
 T h e m a n w h o watches neglected children
leaping in y e l l o w light of sunset
b y waters w h i p p e d b y w i n d , majestic
ten yards o u t a n d f i e r c e ,
but gentle in the shallows,
is m e , estranged from mystery,
t r y i n g t o h e a r w h a t t h e y say,
envying no one in the world but they
w h o n e v e r u s e w o r d s like ' b e a u t y ' ,
s h o u t i n g i n a p p a r e n t ecstasy
a p a n e o f glass a n d f i f t y y a r d s a w a y .

FROM T H E IRISH

Most terrible was o u r h e r o in battle blows:

h a n d s w i t h o u t fingers, s h o r n h e a d s a n d t o e s
w e r e s c a t t e r e d . T h a t d a y t h e r e f l e w a n d fell
from astonished victims e y e b r o w , b o n e and entrail,
like stars i n t h e sky, l i k e s n o w f l a k e s , l i k e n u t s i n M a y ,
like a m e a d o w o f daisies, l i k e b u t t s f r o m a n a s h t r a y .

F a m i l i a r t h i n g s , y o u m i g h t b r u s h against o r t r e a d
u p o n i n t h e daily r o u n d , w e r e g l i s t e n i n g r e d
with the slaughter the h e r o caused, t h o u g h he had g o n e .
B y p r o x y his b o m b e x p l o d e d , his v a l o u r s h o n e .

I'M
 B R E N D A N K E N N E L L Y

B o r n Ballylongford, C o u n t y Kerry, 1936. E d u c a t e d at St Ita's College,

Tarbert, Trinity College D u b l i n , and the University of Leeds.
Has taught for three decades at T C D , w h e r e he is professor of
m o d e r n literature.

Kennelly is a prolific p o e t w h o s e verse shares s o m e t h i n g of the

conversational fluency for w h i c h he is celebrated as a media personality
A m o r e bracing, driven and antithetical quality enters his w o r k in
Cromwell (1983), a sequence of 254 narrative and dramatic p o e m s and
m o c k sonnets. H e r e Kennelly addresses the bloody imperatives of Irish
history by way of a series of fantastic confrontations b e t w e e n such
archetypal figures as E d m u n d Spenser, the Belly, the Butcher,
O l i v e r C r o m w e l l and his complicitous victim, Buffun.

from CROMWELL

THREE TIDES

I n o u r v e r y o w n little civil w a r
T h e sea, a s e m p l o y e d b y s o m e , i s a n e x e m p l a r y w e a p o n
C o m b i n i n g a n a b i l i t y t o finish a j o b
W i t h a r e l i a b l e style o f h u m i l i a t i o n .
P r o p e r u s e o f s u c h e l e m e n t a l efficiency, h o w e v e r ,
I s available o n l y t o t h o s e w h o k n o w
T h e sea's j u d i c i a l c h a r a c t e r
I n its c o n s t i t u t i o n a l e b b a n d f l o w .
As it approaches the shore
It n u d g e s , first, a s h y , f r o t h f u l p o i s o n
R e m i n i s c e n t o f t h e s l i m e o n d y i n g lips
P r i o r t o t h a t r a t t l e t h a t c a n still
S h r e d e v e n t h e m o s t k n i t t e d family
A n d c a u s e fretful s p e c u l a t i o n a b o u t a w i l l .
T h i s is a s l o w p o i s o n , r h y t h m i c a l l y , sensually s l o w .
Perhaps the stimulating m o o n
Q u i c k e n s t h e p a c e b e c a u s e o u r l a w - a b i d i n g sea
Accelerates like a w e l l - e x e c u t e d plan

I'M
()f dependable d r o w n i n g waves, inexorable as generations
O f a fertile C a t h o l i c family t r u e t o G o d ' s
Randy laws, c o m i n g , g o i n g , c o m i n g , g o i n g , like sons
And daughters t o w o r k o r hell o r m o n e y o r E n g l a n d o r s p a w n i n g
beds.
P r o p e r l y j u d g e d , a m a n b u r i e d u p t o his n e c k i n t h e s h o r e
Will t a k e t h r e e t i d e s t o d i e . H i s b r o t h e r s ( m i n e t o o ) say
T h i s g i v e s h i m t i m e t o m e d i t a t e o n his m i s t a k e
I n t a k i n g t h e w r o n g side i n t h a t m o s t u n c i v i l w a r .
U n l i k e o u r m a n l y l a n d , o u r sea has n e v e r l i e d .
M y father d r o w n s t o t h e m o o n ' s laws, h e a d t o o n e side.

VINTAGE

J i m e e n C o n n o r , the butcher, is c o m i n g r o u n d
T h e c o r n e r o f t h e g a r a g e w h e r e his c a b i n
Stands, cosy e n o u g h t h e r e o n sheltered g r o u n d .
P a s s i n g t h e s p u d s a n d c a b b a g e i n his g a r d e n
H e rams the m e a t h o o k into Oliver's belly,
Lifts h i m h o l u s - b o l u s , h a n g s h i m f r o m t h e i r o n
Ring. Soon enough, the ground is bloody.
Oliver protests, gurgling. J i m e e n is g o n e
F o r his h a c k s a w , h e ' s b a c k , h e ' s c u t t i n g
O l i v e r u p , h e ' s c a t c h i n g t h e b l o o d i n a plastic
B u c k e t , h e smiles s t r e t c h i n g i t t o w a r d s m e :
'I'll h a v e t o salt a n d b a r r e l O i l y b e f o r e e a t i n g .
T r y this o l d P u r i t a n w i n e . V i n t a g e . K n o c k i t b a c k . '

If this is a d r e a m , I d r e a m it scares me
Because the blood of that honest H u n t i n g d o n farmer
T u r n e d soldier t u r n e d statesman, albeit n o t w i n e
A s rashly a n n o u n c e d b y t h e b u t c h e r C o n n o r ,
Seemed m u c h the same as yours or mine.
I c o u l d h a v e s w o r n as I s t o o d t h e r e w a t c h i n g
I t p o u r i n t o t h e plastic b u c k e t
I s a w a n d h e a r d t h e lips m u r m u r i n g
R e l i g i o u s l y , ' F u c k it. F u c k it.'

N e x t , d i e b u t c h e r - o r w a s i t myself? - t i p p e d
T h e b u c k e t o n its s i d e , t h e b l o o d
S p l a s h e d t h e g l a s s i n a red i i m t i l y s p r a w l .

|V5
I r e m e m b e r thinking, as the b l o o d escaped
I n t o the earth, that O l i v e r did w h a t O l i v e r did.
S o d i d t h e b u t c h e r . S o d o I . S o d o w e all.

19ft
 S E A M U S H E A N E Y

Born Mossbawn, T a m n i a r n , C o u n t y Derry, 1939. Educated at St

C o l u m b ' s College, Derry, and Q u e e n ' s University Belfast. W o r k e d as a
secondary school teacher, 1 9 6 2 - 3 . Lecturer at St Joseph's College,
Belfast, 1 9 6 3 - 6 and at Q u e e n ' s University, 1 9 6 6 - 7 0 . Guest lecturer at
University of California, Berkeley, 1 9 7 0 - 1 . Lived as a freelance writer at
G l a n m o r e , C o u n t y W i c k l o w , 1 9 7 1 - 5 . Lecturer at Carysfort College,
D u b l i n , 1975. H e a d of English d e p a r t m e n t , Carysfort, 1 9 7 6 - 8 1 .
F o u n d e r m e m b e r and director of Field Day T h e a t r e C o m p a n y , 1980.
Lecturer at University of Harvard, 1 9 8 2 - 4 . Boylston Professor of
Rhetoric and O r a t o r y at Harvard since 1984. Professor of Poetry,
Oxford University, 1 9 8 9 - 9 4 . Has published t w o influential collections
of critical essays, Preoccupations (1980) and Hie Government of the Tongue
(1988). The Cure at Troy, a version of Sophocles' Phibctetes, was staged
by Field Day at Derry's Guildhall in 1990.

From the subtly emblematic rural naturalism of ' C h u r n i n g Day' t h r o u g h

the m y t h o p o e i c grandeur o f ' N o r t h ' (represented here by 'Funeral
Rites') to the adroit cerebration o f ' F r o m the C a n t o n of Expectation'
and 'Lightenings', H e a n e y has b e e n the most protean, as well as the
most internationally visible, Irish poet since Yeats. His career in s o m e
respects shadows that of the earlier writer: his Bloody Sunday p o e m
'Casualty' can be read at o n c e as a critique of ' T h e Fisherman' and as an
attempt to define the lyric imagination's responsibilities to its troubled
times in a m o r e ethically alert and egalitarian way than Yeats did. A
c o n c e r n with loss and its potential retrieval in art persists t h r o u g h
I leaney's m a n y changes of style and direction. T h e early w o r k finds in
lyric accomplishment itself a consoling analogue for the vanishing skills
and crafts of the countryside. T h e p o e m s of the early 1970s seek to
disinter lost historical possibilities e m b e d d e d in H i b e r n o - E n g l i s h - as
'Broagh', for example, does by meditating on a C o u n t y Derry place
name. An increasingly intimate c o n c e r n for the victims of the n o r t h e r n
violence leaves Heaney's art tentative and equivocal w i t h regard to its
restorative powers in 'Casualty' and the o t h e r elegies of Field Work
(1979), a pivotal v o l u m e . T h e later books bring a variety of m o o d and
m o d e to their exploration of the relationship b e t w e e n artistic a u t o n o m y
and c o m m i t m e n t , m e m o r y and invention, inheritance and personal
identity. T a k e n as a w h o l e , Heaney's w o r k orchestrates a debate
I'd w e e n what i s earthy, rooted, d u m b or instinctive, on the o n e hand,
and ethereal, unconstrained, articulate or rational, on the other. In
formal resoun e i t s success in keeping going it has few parallels
in i oiiiciiipoiai y pi >(( i \

1
19
 C H U R N I N G DAY

A t h i c k c r u s t , c o a r s e - g r a i n e d as l i m e s t o n e r o u g h - c a s t ,
h a r d e n e d gradually on t o p of the four crocks
t h a t s t o o d , large p o t t e r y b o m b s , i n t h e s m a l l p a n t r y .
After t h e h o t b r e w e r y o f gland, c u d a n d u d d e r
cool porous earthenware fermented the buttermilk
for c h u r n i n g d a y , w h e n t h e h o o p e d c h u r n w a s s c o u r e d
w i t h p l u m p i n g kettles and the busy s c r u b b e r
e c h o e d daintily o n the seasoned w o o d .
It stood then, purified, on the flagged k i t c h e n floor.

O u t c a m e t h e f o u r c r o c k s , spilled t h e i r h e a v y lip
o f c r e a m , their w h i t e insides, i n t o t h e sterile c h u r n .
T h e staff, l i k e a g r e a t w h i s k y m u d d l e r f a s h i o n e d
i n deal w o o d , w a s p l u n g e d i n , t h e lid f i t t e d .
M y m o t h e r t o o k f i r s t t u r n , set u p r h y t h m s
t h a t s l u g g e d a n d t h u m p e d for h o u r s . A r m s a c h e d .
H a n d s blistered. C h e e k s and clothes w e r e spattered
with flabby milk.

W h e r e finally g o l d f l e c k s
began to dance. T h e y poured hot water then,
sterilized a b i r c h w o o d - b o w l
a n d little c o r r u g a t e d b u t t e r - s p a d e s .
T h e i r short stroke quickened, suddenly
a yellow curd was w e i g h t i n g the c h u r n e d up w h i t e ,
heavy and rich, coagulated sunlight
t h a t t h e y fished, d r i p p i n g , i n a w i d e t i n s t r a i n e r ,
h e a p e d u p like g i l d e d g r a v e l i n t h e b o w l .

T h e h o u s e w o u l d s t i n k l o n g after c h u r n i n g d a y ,
acrid a s a s u l p h u r m i n e . T h e e m p t y c r o c k s
w e r e r a n g e d a l o n g t h e wall again, the b u t t e r
i n soft p r i n t e d slabs w a s p i l e d o n p a n t r y s h e l v e s .
A n d i n t h e h o u s e w e m o v e d w i t h gravid ease,
o u r b r a i n s t u r n e d crystals full o f clean deal c h u r n s ,
t h e plash a n d g u r g l e o f t h e s o u r - b r e a t h e d m i l k ,
t h e p a t a n d slap o f small s p a d e s o n w e t l u m p s .

I'm
 BROAGH

Riverbank, the long rigs

ending in broad docken
and a canopied pad
d o w n t o t h e ford.

T h e garden mould
b r u i s e d easily, t h e s h o w e r
gathering in your heelmark
was the black O

in Broagh,
its l o w t a t t o o
a m o n g the windy boortrees
and rhubarb-blades

e n d e d almost
s u d d e n l y , l i k e t h a t last
gh t h e s t r a n g e r s f o u n d
difficult t o m a n a g e .

T H E T O L L U N D MAN

S o m e day I will go to A a r h u s
T o see his p e a t - b r o w n h e a d ,
T h e m i l d p o d s o f his e y e - l i d s ,
H i s p o i n t e d skin c a p .

I n t h e flat c o u n t r y n e a r b y
W h e r e they dug him out,
H i s last g r u e l o f w i n t e r s e e d s
C a k e d i n his s t o m a c h ,

i'i')
N a k e d e x c e p t for
T h e cap, noose and girdle,
I will s t a n d a l o n g t i m e .
B r i d e g r o o m to the goddess,

She tightened her tore on h i m

A n d o p e n e d h e r fen,
T h o s e dark juices w o r k i n g
H i m t o a saint's k e p t b o d y ,

T r o v e of the turfcutters'
H o n e y c o m b e d workings.
N o w his s t a i n e d face
Reposes at Aarhus.

II

I c o u l d risk b l a s p h e m y ,
Consecrate the cauldron bog
O u r holy g r o u n d and pray
H i m to make germinate

T h e scattered, a m b u s h e d
Flesh o f l a b o u r e r s ,
Stockinged corpses
Laid o u t i n t h e f a r m y a r d s ,

Tell-tale skin a n d teeth

Flecking the sleepers
O f four y o u n g b r o t h e r s , trailed
F o r m i l e s a l o n g t h e lines.

Ill

S o m e t h i n g o f his sad f r e e d o m
As he rode the tumbril
Should c o m e to m e , driving,
Saying the n a m e s
 Tollund, Grabaulle, Nebelgard,
Watching the pointing hands
Of country people,
N o t k n o w i n g their tongue.

O u t there in Jutland
In the old m a n - k i l l i n g parishes
I will feel lost,
U n h a p p y and at h o m e .

MOSSBAWN: T W O POEMS IN DEDICATION

for Mary Heaney

I SUNLIGHT

T h e r e was a sunlit absence.

T h e h e l m e t e d p u m p in the yard
h e a t e d its i r o n ,
water honeyed

in the slung bucket

and the sun stood
like a g r i d d l e c o o l i n g
against t h e w a l l

of each long afternoon.

S o , h e r h a n d s scuffled
over the bakeboard,
the r e d d e n i n g stove

s e n t its p l a q u e o f h e a t
against h e r w h e r e s h e s t o o d
in a f l o u r y a p r o n
by the w i n d o w .

N o w she dusts the b o a r d

with a goose's wing,
n o w sits, b r o a d - l a p p e d ,
w i t h w h i t e n e d n.nls

•i.i
 a n d m e a s l i n g shins:
h e r e is a s p a c e
again, t h e s c o n e rising
to the tick of t w o clocks.

A n d here is love
like a t i n s m i t h ' s s c o o p
s u n k past its g l e a m
in the meal-bin.

FUNERAL RITES

I s h o u l d e r e d a k i n d of m a n h o o
s t e p p i n g i n t o lift t h e coffins
of dead relations.
T h e y h a d b e e n laid o u t

in tainted rooms,
their eyelids glistening,
their d o u g h - w h i t e hands
shackled in rosary beads.

T h e i r puffed knuckles
h a d u n w r i n k l e d , t h e nails
w e r e d a r k e n e d , t h e wrists
obediently sloped.

T h e dulse-brown shroud,
t h e q u i l t e d satin cribs:
I knelt courteously
a d m i r i n g it all

as wax melted d o w n
and veined the candles,
t h e flames h o v e r i n g
to the w o m e n hovering

»02
behind me.
A n d always, in a c o r n e r ,
t h e coffin lid,
its n a i l - h e a d s d r e s s e d

w i t h little g l e a m i n g crosses.
D e a r soapstone masks,
kissing t h e i r i g l o o b r o w s
h a d t o suffice

b e f o r e t h e nails w e r e s u n k
and t h e black glacier
of each funeral
pushed away.

II

N o w as news comes in
of each neighbourly m u r d e r
w e p i n e for c e r e m o n y ,
customary rhythms:

the t e m p e r a t e footsteps
o f a c o r t e g e , w i n d i n g past
each blinded h o m e .
I w o u l d restore

the great c h a m b e r s of B o y n e ,
prepare a sepulchre
u n d e r the c u p m a r k e d stones.
O u t o f side-streets and by-roads

p u r r i n g f a m i l y cars
nose into line,
the w h o l e country tunes
to the muffled d r u m m i n g

of ten thousand engines.

S o n ina in bulant w o m e n ,
left b e h i n d , m o v e
t h r o u g h e n i p l i e d kit< liens

.'ii t
imagining our slow triumph
towards the mounds.
Q u i e t as a s e r p e n t
in its grassy b o u l e v a r d

t h e p r o c e s s i o n drags its tail

out of the Gap of the N o r t h
as its h e a d a l r e a d y e n t e r s
the megalithic doorway.

Ill

W h e n they have put the stone

b a c k i n its m o u t h
w e will d r i v e n o r t h a g a i n
past S t r a n g a n d C a r l i n g fjords,

the cud of m e m o r y
allayed for o n c e , a r b i t r a t i o n
of the feud placated,
i m a g i n i n g t h o s e u n d e r t h e hill

disposed like G u n n a r
w h o lay b e a u t i f u l
i n s i d e his b u r i a l m o u n d ,
though dead by violence

and unavenged.
M e n said t h a t h e w a s c h a n t i n g
verses a b o u t h o n o u r
a n d that four lights b u r n e d

in corners of the chamber:

which opened then, as he turned
w i t h a j o y f u l face
to look at the m o o n .

MI
 CASUALTY

He w o u l d drink by himself
A n d raise a w e a t h e r e d t h u m b
T o w a r d s t h e h i g h shelf,
Calling another r u m
A n d blackcurrant, without
H a v i n g t o raise his v o i c e ,
Or order a quick stout
B y a lifting o f t h e e y e s
A n d a discreet d u m b - s h o w
O f p u l l i n g off* t h e t o p ;
At closing time w o u l d go
In w a d e r s and p e a k e d cap
Into the s h o w e r y dark,
A dole-kept breadwinner
B u t a n a t u r a l for w o r k .
I l o v e d his w h o l e m a n n e r ,
S u r e - f o o t e d b u t t o o sly,
His d e a d p a n sidling tact,
His fisherman's quick eye
A n d turned observant back.

Incomprehensible
T o h i m , m y o t h e r life.
S o m e t i m e s , o n his h i g h s t o o l ,
T o o b u s y w i t h his k n i f e
At a t o b a c c o plug
And not meeting my eye,
In t h e p a u s e after a slug
He m e n t i o n e d poetry.
We would be on our own
A n d , always politic
A n d shy o f c o n d e s c e n s i o n ,
I w o u l d m a n a g e by s o m e trick
T o s w i t c h t h e talk t o eels
( ) r l o r e o f t h e h o r s e a n d cart
( >i t h e P r o v i s i o n a l s .

205
B u t m y t e n t a t i v e art
His turned back watches too:
H e w a s b l o w n t o bits
O u t drinking in a curfew
O t h e r s o b e y e d , three nights
After they shot dead
T h e thirteen m e n in Derry.
PARAS T H I R T E E N , t h e walls said
BOGSIDE NIL. T h a t W e d n e s d a y
Everybody held
His breath and trembled.

II

It w a s a d a y of c o l d
R a w silence, w i n d - b l o w n
Surplice and soutane:
Rained-on, flower-laden
C o f f i n after coffin
S e e m e d t o float f r o m t h e d o o r
O f the packed cathedral
Like blossoms on slow water.
T h e c o m m o n funeral
U n r o l l e d its s w a d d l i n g b a n d ,
Lapping, tightening
Till w e w e r e b r a c e d and b o u n d
L i k e b r o t h e r s in a r i n g .

But he w o u l d not be held

A t h o m e b y his o w n c r o w d
W h a t e v e r threats w e r e p h o n e d ,
W h a t e v e r b l a c k flags w a v e d .
I see h i m a s h e t u r n e d
In that b o m b e d offending place
R e m o r s e fused w i t h t e r r o r
I n his still k n o w a b l e face,
H i s c o r n e r e d o u t f a c e d stare
B l i n d i n g i n t h e flash.

He had g o n e miles away

F o r lie d r a n k like a fish

.'IK,
Nightly, naturally
S w i m m i n g towards the lure
O f w a r m lit-up places,
T h e blurred mesh and m u r m u r
D r i f t i n g a m o n g glasses
In the gregarious smoke.
H o w culpable was h e
T h a t last n i g h t w h e n h e b r o k e
O u r tribe's complicity?
' N o w you're supposed to be
An educated man,'
I h e a r h i m say. ' P u z z l e m e
T h e r i g h t answer t o that o n e . '

Ill

I m i s s e d his f u n e r a l ,
Those quiet walkers
A n d sideways talkers
S h o a l i n g o u t o f his l a n e
T o the respectable
P u r r i n g of t h e h e a r s e . . .
T h e y m o v e in equal pace
W i t h the habitual
Slow consolation
Of a dawdling engine,
T h e l i n e lifted, h a n d
O v e r fist, c o l d s u n s h i n e
O n the water, the land
B a n k e d u n d e r fog: t h a t m o r n i n g
W h e n h e t o o k m e i n his b o a t ,
T h e screw purling, turning
Indolent fathoms white,
I tasted f r e e d o m w i t h h i m .
T o get o u t early, haul
S t e a d i l y off t h e b o t t o m ,
Dispraise t h e catch, and smile
As y o u find a r h y t h m
W o r k i n g you, slow mile by mile
Inlo your p r o p e r haunt
S o m e w h e r e , well out, b e y o n d . .

•«I/
 Dawn-sniffing revenant,
P l o d d e r t h r o u g h m i d n i g h t rain,
Q u e s t i o n m e again.

BADGERS

W h e n the badger glimmered away

into another garden
y o u s t o o d , half-lit w i t h w h i s k e y ,
sensing y o u had disturbed
s o m e soft r e t u r n i n g .

T h e m u r d e r e d dead,
you thought.
But could it not have been
some violent shattered boy
nosing o u t w h a t got mislaid
b e t w e e n the cradle and the explosion,
evenings w h e n w i n d o w s stood open
a n d the c o m p o s t s m o k e d d o w n t h e backs?

V i s i t a t i o n s a r e t a k e n for signs.
At a s e c o n d h o u s e I l i s t e n e d
for d u n t i n g s u n d e r t h e laurels
and heard intimations whispered
about being vaguely honoured.

A n d t o r e a d e v e n b y carcasses
the badgers have c o m e back.
O n e that g r e w n o t o r i o u s
lay u n t o u c h e d i n t h e r o a d s i d e .
Last n i g h t o n e h a d m e b r a k i n g
b u t m o r e i n fear t h a n i n h o n o u r .

C o o l from t h e sett and r e d o l e n t

o f his r u n s u n d e r t h e n i g h t ,
t h e b o g e y o f fern c o u n t r y
broke cover in me
for wh.it lie is:

,>UH
 p i g family
a n d n o t a t all w h a t h e ' s p a i n t e d .

H o w perilous is it to choose
n o t t o l o v e t h e life w e ' r e s h o w n ?
His sturdy dirty b o d y
and interloping grovel.
T h e i n t e l l i g e n c e i n his b o n e .
T h e unquestionable houseboy's shoulders
that could have b e e n my o w n .

T H E HARVEST B O W

As y o u plaited the harvest b o w

Y o u implicated the m e l l o w e d silence i n y o u
In w h e a t that does n o t rust
B u t brightens as it tightens twist by twist
Into a knowable corona,
A t h r o w a w a y l o v e - k n o t of straw.

H a n d s t h a t a g e d r o u n d a s h p l a n t s a n d c a n e sticks
A n d lapped the spurs on a lifetime of g a m e cocks
H a r k e d t o t h e i r gift a n d w o r k e d w i t h fine i n t e n t
U n t i l y o u r fingers m o v e d s o m n a m b u l a n t :
I tell a n d f i n g e r it l i k e b r a i l l e ,
G l e a n i n g t h e u n s a i d off t h e p a l p a b l e .

A n d i f I s p y i n t o its g o l d e n l o o p s
I see u s w a l k b e t w e e n t h e r a i l w a y s l o p e s
I n t o a n e v e n i n g o f l o n g grass a n d m i d g e s ,
Blue s m o k e straight u p , old beds and p l o u g h s in h e d g
An auction notice on an o u t h o u s e wall -
Y o u w i t h a harvest b o w in y o u r lapel,

M c w i t h t h e fishing r o d , a l r e a d y h o m e s i c k
f o r t h e b i g lift o f t h e s e e v e n i n g s , a s y o u r s t i c k
W h a c k i n g t h e tips off w e e d s a n d b u s h e s
He.its o u t o f t u n e , a n d b e a t s , b u t flushes
 N o t h i n g : that original t o w n l a n d
Still t o n g u e - t i e d i n t h e s t r a w t i e d b y y o u r h a n d .

The end of art is peace

C o u l d b e t h e m o t t o o f this frail d e v i c e
T h a t I h a v e p i n n e d u p o n o u r deal d r e s s e r -
Like a d r a w n snare
S l i p p e d lately b y t h e spirit o f t h e c o r n
Y e t b u r n i s h e d b y its passage, a n d still w a r m .

T H E BIRTHPLACE

T h e deal t a b l e w h e r e h e w r o t e , s o small a n d p l a i n ,
t h e single b e d a d r e a m o f d i s c i p l i n e .
A n d a flagged k i t c h e n d o w n s t a i r s , its m o t e - s l a n t s

o f t h i c k light: t h e u n p e r t u r b e d , reliable
g h o s t life h e c a r r i e d , w i t h n o n e e d t o i n v e n t .
A n d high trees r o u n d the h o u s e , b r e a t h e d u p o n

d a y a n d n i g h t by w i n d s as s l o w as a cart
c o m i n g late f r o m m a r k e t , o r t h e stir
a fiddle c o u l d m a k e i n his r e l u c t a n t h e a r t .

II

T h a t day, w e w e r e like o n e
o f his t r o u b l e d pairs, s p e e c h l e s s
u n t i l h e s p o k e for t h e m ,

haunters of silence at n o o n
in a d e e p lane that was sexual
w i t h ferns a n d b u t t e r f l i e s ,

scared at o u r h u r t ,
throat-sick, heat-struck, driven
into the damp-floored w o o d

210
 w h e r e we m a d e an episode
of ourselves, unforgettable,
unmentionable,

a n d b r o k e o u t again like c a t t l e
t h r o u g h bushes, w e t and raised,
only yards f r o m the h o u s e .

Ill

Everywhere being nowhere,

w h o can p r o v e
o n e place m o r e than another?

W e c o m e back emptied,
t o n o u r i s h a n d resist
t h e w o r d s o f c o m i n g t o rest:

birthplace, roqfbeam, whitewash,

flagstone, hearth,
like u n s t a c k e d i r o n w e i g h t s

afloat a m o n g galaxies.
Still, w a s it t h i r t y y e a r s a g o
I r e a d u n t i l first l i g h t

for t h e first t i m e , t o finish

The Return of the Native?
T h e c o r n c r a k e i n t h e aftergrass

v e r i f i e d himself, a n d I h e a r d
roosters and dogs, the very same
as if he had w r i t t e n t h e m .

from SWEENEY REDIVIVUS

IIII ( I I.RK.

I heard n e w w o r d s prayed at c o w s
in the b y t e , f o u n d Ins N I I M I

o n i I n - i m i k .ind the hidden Still,

•II
 s m e l l e d f u m e s f r o m his c e n s e r
i n t h e first s m o k e s o f m o r n i n g .
N e x t thing he was m a k i n g a progress

t h r o u g h g a p s , s t e p p i n g o u t sites,
s i n k i n g his c r o z i e r d e e p
in the fort-hearth.

I f h e h a d s t u c k t o his o w n
c r a m p - j a w e d abbesses a n d i n t o n e r s
dibbling r o u n d the enclosure,

his L a t i n a n d b l a t h e r o f l o v e ,
his p a r c h m e n t s a n d s c h e m i n g
in letters s h i p p e d o v e r w a t e r -

but no, he overbore

w i t h his u n c t i o n s a n d o r d e r s ,
he had to get in on the ground.

H i s t o r y t h a t p l a n t e d its s t a n d a r d s
o n his g a b l e s a n d spires
ousted me to the marches

of skulking and whingeing.

Or did I desert?
G i v e h i m his d u e , i n t h e e n d

he o p e n e d my path to a k i n g d o m
of such scope a n d n e u t e r allegiance
m y e m p t i n e s s r e i g n s a t its w h i m .

FROM T H E FRONTIER OF WRITING

T h e t i g h t n e s s a n d t h e nilness r o u n d t h a t s p a c e
w h e n t h e car s t o p s i n t h e r o a d , t h e t r o o p s inspect
its m a k e a n d n u m b e r a n d , a s o n e b e n d s Ins face

•I !
 t o w a r d s y o u r w i n d o w , y o u catch sight o f m o r e
o n a hill b e y o n d , e y e i n g w i t h i n t e n t
d o w n cradled guns that hold y o u u n d e r cover

and e v e r y t h i n g is pure interrogation

until a rifle m o t i o n s and y o u m o v e
with g u a r d e d u n c o n c e r n e d acceleration -

a little e m p t i e r , a little s p e n t
a s a l w a y s b y t h a t q u i v e r i n t h e self,
subjugated, yes, and obedient.

So y o u d r i v e on to the frontier of writing

w h e r e i t h a p p e n s again. T h e guns o n tripods;
t h e s e r g e a n t w i t h his o n - o f f m i k e r e p e a t i n g

d a t a a b o u t y o u , w a i t i n g for t h e s q u a w k
of clearance; t h e marksman training d o w n
o u t o f t h e s u n u p o n y o u like a h a w k .

A n d s u d d e n l y y o u ' r e t h r o u g h , arraigned yet freed,

as if y o u ' d passed from b e h i n d a waterfall
on the black current of a tarmac road

past a r m o u r - p l a t e d v e h i c l e s , o u t b e t w e e n
the posted soldiers flowing and receding
like tree s h a d o w s i n t o t h e polished w i n d s c r e e n .

FROM THE C A N T O N OF EXPECTATION

We lived d e e p in a land of optative m o o d s ,

u n d e r high, b a n k e d clouds of resignation.
A rustle of l o s s in t h e p h r a s e Not in our lifetime,
the broken n e r v e w h e n we prayed Vouchsafe o r Deign,
w e r e c r e d i t a b l e , sufficient to t h e day.

( ) I K r . 1 vc.n w e g a t h e r e d i n a f i e l d
o l d.iin c p i . l i b u r n s a n d t e n t s w h e r e < l u l d i e n s a n g

21 I
songs they had learned by rote in the old language.
An auctioneer w h o had fought in the b r o t h e r h o o d
enumerated the humiliations
w e a l w a y s t o o k for g r a n t e d , b u t n o t e v e n h e
c o n s i d e r e d this, I t h i n k , a call to a c t i o n .
I r o n - m o u t h e d l o u d s p e a k e r s s h o o k t h e air
y e t n o b o d y felt b l a m e d . H e h a d c o n f i r m e d us.
W h e n our rebel a n t h e m played the m e e t i n g shut
w e t u r n e d for h o m e a n d t h e u s u a l h a r a s s m e n t
by militiamen on overtime at roadblocks.

!!

A n d n e x t t h i n g , s u d d e n l y , this c h a n g e o f m o o d .
Books open in the newly wired kitchens.
Y o u n g h e a d s t h a t m i g h t h a v e d o z e d a life a w a y
against t h e flanks o f m i l k i n g c o w s w e r e b u s y
p a v i n g a n d p e n c i l l i n g t h e i r first c a u s e w a y s
across t h e p r e s c r i b e d t e x t s . T h e p a v i n g s t o n e s
of quadrangles came next and a grammar
o f imperatives, t h e n e w age o f d e m a n d s .
T h e y w o u l d b a n i s h t h e c o n d i t i o n a l for e v e r ,
this g e n e r a t i o n b o r n i m p e r v i o u s t o
t h e t r i u m p h i n o u r cries o f d e prqfundis.
O u r faith i n w i n n i n g b y e n d u r i n g m o s t
they m a d e anathema, intelligences
brightened and u n m a n n e r l y as crowbars.

HI

What looks the strongest has outlived its term.

The future lies with what's affirmed from under.
T h e s e things that corroborated us w h e n we dwelt
u n d e r t h e aegis o f o u r s t e a l t h y p a t r o n ,
t h e g u a r d i a n a n g e l o f passivity,
n o w sink a fang of m e n a c e in my s h o u l d e r .
I repeat the w o r d 'stricken' to myself
and stand bareheaded u n d e r the b a n k e d clouds
e d g e d m o r e a n d m o r e w i t h brassy t h u n d e r l i g h t .
I y e a r n for h a m m e r b l o w s o n c l i n k e r e d p l a n k s ,
the u n c o m p r o m i s e d report of driven thole-pins,
to k n o w there is one a m o n g us w h o never swerved

•I l
f r o m all his i n s t i n c t s t o l d h i m w a s r i g h t a c t i o n ,
w h o s t o o d his g r o u n d i n t h e i n d i c a t i v e ,
w h o s e b o a t w i l l lift w h e n t h e c l o u d b u r s t h a p p e n s .

WHEELS W I T H I N WHEELS

T h e first real g r i p I e v e r g o t o n t h i n g s
W a s w h e n I l e a r n e d t h e art o f p e d a l l i n g
(By h a n d ) a b i k e t u r n e d u p s i d e d o w n , a n d d r o v e
Its b a c k w h e e l p r e t e r n a t u r a l l y fast.
I loved the disappearance of the spokes,
T h e w a y the space b e t w e e n the h u b a n d r i m
H u m m e d with transparency. If you t h r e w
A p o t a t o i n t o it, t h e h o o p e d air
S p u n m u s h a n d d r i z z l e b a c k i n t o y o u r face;
If y o u t o u c h e d it w i t h a straw, t h e straw frittered.
S o m e t h i n g a b o u t the w a y those pedal treads
W o r k e d v e r y p a l p a b l y a t first against y o u
And then began to sweep your hand ahead
I n t o a n e w m o m e n t u m - t h a t all e n t e r e d m e
L i k e a n access o f free p o w e r , a s i f b e l i e f
C a u g h t up and spun the objects of belief
In an orbit c o t e r m i n o u s with longing.

II

B u t e n o u g h was n o t e n o u g h . W h o ever saw

T h e limit i n the given a n y h o w ?
In fields b e y o n d o u r house there was a well
( ' T h e w e l l ' w e c a l l e d it. I t w a s m o r e a h o l e
W i t h w a t e r i n it, w i t h small h a w t h o r n t r e e s
O n o n e side, a n d a m u d d y , d u n g y o o z e
O n t h e o t h e r , all t r a m p e d t h r o u g h b y c a t t l e ) .
I l o v e d that t o o . 1 l o v e d t h e t u r b i d s m e l l ,
T h e s u m p - l i f e o f t h e p l a c e l i k e o l d c h a i n oil.
A n d there, next thing, I b r o u g h t my bicycle.
I s t o o d its saddle a n d its h a n d l e b a r s
I n t o the soil b o t t o m , I t o u c h e d the t y r e s
 T o t h e w a t e r ' s surface, t h e n t u r n e d t h e pedals
U n t i l like a m i l l - w h e e l p o u r i n g at t h e treadles
( B u t h e r e r e v e r s e d a n d l a s h i n g a m a r e ' s tail)
T h e world-refreshing and immersed back wheel
S p u n lace a n d d i r t - s u d s t h e r e b e f o r e m y e y e s
A n d s h o w e r e d m e i n m y o w n r e g e n e r a t e clays.
F o r w e e k s I m a d e a n i m b u s o f o l d glit.
T h e n the h u b j a m m e d , rims rusted, the chain snapped.

Ill

N o t h i n g r o s e t o t h e o c c a s i o n after t h a t
U n t i l , in a circus ring, d r u m r o l l e d a n d spotlit,
Cowgirls w h e e l e d in, each o n e immaculate
A t t h e still c e n t r e o f a lariat.
Perpetuum mobile. Sheer pirouette.
T u m b l e r s . J o n g l e u r s . R i n g - a - r o s i e s . Stet!

from LIGHTENINGS

VIII

T h e a n n a l s say: w h e n t h e m o n k s o f C l o n m a c n o i s e
W e r e all a t p r a y e r s i n s i d e t h e o r a t o r y
A s h i p a p p e a r e d a b o v e t h e m i n t h e air.

T h e anchor dragged along behind so deep

I t h o o k e d itself i n t o t h e altar rails
A n d t h e n , a s t h e b i g h u l l r o c k e d t o a standstill,

A c r e w m a n shinned and grappled d o w n the rope

A n d s t r u g g l e d t o r e l e a s e it. B u t i n v a i n .
' T h i s m a n c a n ' t b e a r o u r life h e r e a n d will d r o w n , '

T h e a b b o t said, ' u n l e s s w e h e l p h i m . ' S o

T h e y d i d , t h e f r e e d s h i p sailed, a n d t h e m a n c l i m b e d bat
O u t o f t h e m a r v e l l o u s a s h e h a d k n o w n it.
 IX

A boat that did n o t rock or w o b b l e o n c e

Sat i n l o n g grass o n e S u n d a y a f t e r n o o n
In nineteen forty-one or two. T h e heat

O u t o n L o u g h N e a g h and i n w h e r e cattle s t o o d
Jostling and skittering near the hedge
G r e w r e d o l e n t o f t h e t w e e d skirt a n d t w e e d s l e e v e

I n u r s e d o n . I r e m e m b e r little t r e b l e
T i m b e r - n o t e s their smart heels struck from planks,
M e c r a d l e d i n a n e l b o w like a s e c r e t

O p e n n o w as the eye of heaven was then

A b o v e t h r e e sisters t a l k i n g , t a l k i n g s t e a d y
In a b o a t t h e g r o u n d still falls a n d falls f r o m u n d e r .

KEEPING G O I N G
for H. H.

T h e p i p e r c o m i n g f r o m far a w a y i s y o u
W i t h a w h i t e w a s h b r u s h for a s p o r r a n
W o b b l i n g r o u n d y o u , a kitchen chair
Upside d o w n on your shoulder, your right arm
Pretending to tuck the bag beneath your elbow,
Y o u r pop-eyes and big cheeks nearly bursting
W i t h laughter, but keeping up the drone
Inside y o u r nose, b e t w e e n catches of breath.

T h e whitewash brush. An old blanched skirted thing

O n t h e b a c k o f t h e b y r e d o o r , b i d i n g its t i m e
U n t i l s p r i n g airs s p e l l e d l i m e i n a w o r k - b u c k e t
A n d a potstick to m i x it in w i t h water.
T h o s e smells b r o u g h t tears t o t h e e y e s , w e i n h a l e d
A k i n d ol g r e e n y b u r n i n g a n d t h o u g h t <>l b r i m s t o n e .
B u t t h e slop o f t h e actual j o b
O f b r u s h i n g walls, t h e w a t e r y g r e y
B e i n g lashed on in b r o a d swatches, t h e n d r y i n g o u t
W h i t e r a n d w h i t e r , all t h a t w o r k e d like m a g i c .
W h e r e h a d w e c o m e f r o m , w h a t was this k i n g d o m
W e k n e w w e ' d b e e n r e s t o r e d to? O u r s h a d o w s
M o v e d o n t h e w a l l a n d a tar b o r d e r g l i t t e r e d
T h e full l e n g t h o f t h e h o u s e , a b l a c k d i v i d e
Like a freshly-opened, p u n g e n t , reeking trench.

Piss a t t h e g a b l e , t h e d e a d w i l l c o n g r e g a t e .
B u t s e p a r a t e l y . T h e w o m e n after d a r k ,
H u n k e r i n g there a m o m e n t before bedtime,
T h e o n l y t i m e t h e s o u l w a s let a l o n e .
T h e o n l y t i m e t h a t face a n d b o d y c a l m e d
In the eye of heaven.
Buttermilk and urine,
T h e pantry, t h e h o u s e d beasts, the listening b e d r o o m .
W e w e r e all t o g e t h e r t h e r e i n a f o r e t i m e ,
I n a k n o w l e d g e t h a t m i g h t n o t translate b e y o n d
T h o s e w i n d - h e a v e d m i d n i g h t s w e still c a n n o t b e s u r e
H a p p e n e d o r n o t . I t s m e l l e d o f h i l l - f o r t clay
A n d cattle d u n g . W h e n t h e t h o r n tree was cut d o w n
Y o u b r o k e y o u r arm. I shared the dread
W h e n a s t r a n g e b i r d p e r c h e d for days o n t h e b y r e r o o l

T h a t s c e n e , w i t h M a c b e t h helpless a n d d e s p e r a t e
I n his n i g h t m a r e - w h e n h e m e e t s t h e hags again
A n d sees t h e a p p a r i t i o n s i n t h e p o t -
I felt a t h o m e w i t h t h a t o n e all r i g h t . H e a r t h ,
S t e a m a n d u l u l a t i o n , t h e s m o k y hair
C u r t a i n i n g a cheek. ' D o n ' t go near bad boys
I n t h a t c o l l e g e y o u ' r e b o u n d for. D o y o u h e a r m e ?
D o y o u hear m e speaking t o you? D o n ' t forget.'
A n d t h e n the potstick q u i c k e n i n g the gruel.
T h e steam c r o w n swirled, everything intimate
A n d f e a r - s w a t h e d b r i g h t e n i n g for . 1 m o m e n t ,
T h e n g o i n g d u l l a n d fatal . m i l .iw.iy.

21H
 5

G r e y m a t t e r like gruel f l e c k e d w i t h b l o o d
In spatters on t h e w h i t e w a s h . A clean spot
W h e r e his h e a d h a d b e e n , o t h e r stains s u b s u m e d
I n t h e p a r c h e d w a l l h e l e a n t his b a c k a g a i n s t
T h a t m o r n i n g just like any o t h e r m o r n i n g ,
P a r t - t i m e r e s e r v i s t , t o t i n g his l u n c h - b o x .
A car c a m e s l o w d o w n Castle Street, m a d e t h e halt,
C r o s s e d t h e D i a m o n d , s l o w e d again a n d s t o p p e d
L e v e l w i t h h i m , a l t h o u g h i t w a s n o t his lift.
A n d t h e n h e s a w a n o r d i n a r y face
F o r w h a t i t w a s a n d a g u n i n his o w n face.
H i s r i g h t l e g w a s h o o k e d b a c k , his sole a n d h e e l
A g a i n s t t h e w a l l , his r i g h t k n e e p r o p p e d u p s t e a d y ,
S o h e n e v e r m o v e d , j u s t p u s h e d w i t h all his m i g h t
A g a i n s t himself, t h e n fell past t h e t a r r e d s t r i p ,
F e e d i n g t h e g u t t e r w i t h his c o p i o u s b l o o d .

My dear brother, y o u have g o o d stamina.

Y o u stay o n w h e r e i t h a p p e n s . Y o u r b i g t r a c t o r
I'nils u p a t t h e D i a m o n d , y o u w a v e a t p e o p l e ,
Y o u s h o u t and laugh a b o v e t h e revs, y o u k e e p
()ld roads o p e n by driving on the n e w ones.
Y o u called t h e pipers' sporrans w h i t e w a s h b r u s h e s
And t h e n dressed up and m a r c h e d us t h r o u g h the kitchen.
1 tut y o u c a n n o t m a k e the d e a d walk or right w r o n g .
1 see y o u a t t h e e n d o f y o u r t e t h e r s o m e t i m e s ,
In the milking parlour, holding yourself up
Met w e e n t w o c o w s u n t i l y o u r t u r n g o e s past,
I I K ' I I c o m i n g to to t h e smell o f d u n g again
A n d w o n d e r i n g , is this all? As it w a s
I n t h e b e g i n n i n g , i s n o w a n d shall b e ?
Then r u b b i n g y o u r eyes a n d seeing o u r old b r u s h
I lp on the byre door, and k e e p i n g going.
B u t t h e slop o f t h e actual j o b
O f b r u s h i n g walls, t h e w a t e r y g r e y
B e i n g lashed on in b r o a d swatches, t h e n drying o u t
W h i t e r a n d w h i t e r , all t h a t w o r k e d l i k e m a g i c .
W h e r e h a d w e c o m e f r o m , w h a t w a s this k i n g d o m
W e k n e w w e ' d b e e n r e s t o r e d to? O u r s h a d o w s
M o v e d o n t h e w a l l a n d a tar b o r d e r g l i t t e r e d
T h e full l e n g t h o f t h e h o u s e , a b l a c k d i v i d e
Like a freshly-opened, p u n g e n t , reeking trench.

Piss a t t h e g a b l e , t h e d e a d w i l l c o n g r e g a t e .
B u t s e p a r a t e l y . T h e w o m e n after d a r k ,
H u n k e r i n g there a m o m e n t before bedtime,
T h e o n l y t i m e the soul was let alone.
T h e o n l y t i m e t h a t face a n d b o d y c a l m e d
In the eye of heaven.
Buttermilk and urine,
T h e pantry, t h e h o u s e d beasts, the listening b e d r o o m .
W e w e r e all t o g e t h e r t h e r e i n a f o r e t i m e ,
In a k n o w l e d g e that m i g h t n o t translate b e y o n d
T h o s e w i n d - h e a v e d m i d n i g h t s w e still c a n n o t b e s u r e
H a p p e n e d o r n o t . I t s m e l l e d o f h i l l - f o r t clay
A n d cattle d u n g . W h e n t h e t h o r n tree was c u t d o w n
Y o u b r o k e y o u r arm. I shared the dread
W h e n a s t r a n g e b i r d p e r c h e d for days o n t h e b y r e roof.

T h a t scene, w i t h M a c b e t h helpless a n d desperate

I n his n i g h t m a r e - w h e n h e m e e t s t h e h a g s again
A n d sees t h e a p p a r i t i o n s i n t h e p o t -
I felt a t h o m e w i t h t h a t o n e all r i g h t . H e a r t h ,
S t e a m a n d ululation, t h e s m o k y hair
Curtaining a cheek. ' D o n ' t go near bad boys
I n t h a t c o l l e g e y o u ' r e b o u n d for. D o y o u h e a r m e ?
D o y o u hear m e speaking t o you? D o n ' t forget.'
A n d then the potstick quickening the gruel,
T h e steam c r o w n swirled, everything intimate
A n d f e a r - s w a t h e d b r i g h t e n i n g for a m o m e n t .
T h e n g o i n g dull a n d fatal a n d a w a y .

21H
 5

G r e y m a t t e r like gruel flecked w i t h b l o o d

In spatters on t h e w h i t e w a s h . A clean spot
W h e r e his h e a d h a d b e e n , o t h e r stains s u b s u m e d
I n t h e p a r c h e d w a l l h e l e a n t his b a c k against
T h a t m o r n i n g j u s t like a n y o t h e r m o r n i n g ,
P a r t - t i m e reservist, t o t i n g his l u n c h - b o x .
A car c a m e s l o w d o w n C a s t l e S t r e e t , m a d e t h e h a l t ,
Crossed t h e D i a m o n d , s l o w e d again a n d s t o p p e d
L e v e l w i t h h i m , a l t h o u g h i t w a s n o t his lift.
A n d t h e n h e s a w a n o r d i n a r y face
F o r w h a t i t w a s a n d a g u n i n his o w n face.
H i s r i g h t l e g w a s h o o k e d b a c k , his sole a n d h e e l
A g a i n s t t h e w a l l , his r i g h t k n e e p r o p p e d u p s t e a d y ,
S o h e n e v e r m o v e d , j u s t p u s h e d w i t h all his m i g h t
A g a i n s t himself, t h e n fell past t h e t a r r e d s t r i p ,
F e e d i n g t h e g u t t e r w i t h his c o p i o u s b l o o d .

M y dear brother, y o u have g o o d stamina.

Y o u stay o n w h e r e i t h a p p e n s . Y o u r b i g t r a c t o r
Pulls u p a t t h e D i a m o n d , y o u w a v e a t p e o p l e ,
Y o u shout and laugh above t h e revs, y o u k e e p
O l d roads o p e n by driving on the n e w ones.
Y o u called the pipers' sporrans w h i t e w a s h brushes
A n d t h e n dressed up and m a r c h e d us t h r o u g h the k i t c h e n .
But you cannot make the dead walk or right wrong.
I see y o u a t t h e e n d o f y o u r t e t h e r s o m e t i m e s ,
In the milking parlour, holding yourself up
B e t w e e n t w o c o w s u n t i l y o u r t u r n g o e s past,
T h e n c o m i n g t o t o t h e smell o f d u n g again
A n d w o n d e r i n g , i s this all? A s i t w a s
I n t h e b e g i n n i n g , i s n o w a n d shall b e ?
T h e n r u b b i n g y o u r eyes a n d seeing o u r old b r u s h
Up on the byre door, and keeping going.
 M I C H A E L L O N G L E Y

Born Belfast, of English parents, 1939. Educated at the Royal Belfast

Academical Institution and Trinity College D u b l i n , w h e r e he studied
classics. Secondary school teacher in Dublin, L o n d o n and Belfast,
1 9 6 3 - 7 0 . W o r k e d for m a n y years with the Arts C o u n c i l of N o r t h e r n
Ireland before retiring from post of C o m b i n e d Arts Director in 1991.
Longley has edited Causeway: The Arts in Ulster (1971) and an anthology
of N o r t h e r n Irish children's poetry, Over the Moon and Under the Stars
(1971), as well as selections of the poetry of Louis M a c N e i c e and
W . R . Rodgers and a v o l u m e of reminiscences of the painter
Paul H e n r y . Tuppenny Stung: Autobiographical Chapters,
appeared in 1994.

Longley's formalism acts as a bulwark against a chaos his p o e m s evoke

with varying degrees of grotesquery, exuberance and terror. H o m e
serves as his characteristic trope for a h a r d - w o n , fragile civility - a
choice of figure w h i c h may reflect an Ulsterman's problematic sense ol
belonging. W r y equivocation about domesticity in early pieces like
'Caravan' paves the way for the subsequent poetry's concern with
despoliations of household order by political violence. T h e r e is a
despairing irony in Longley's recognition of the domesticating
imperative behind Odysseus's slaughter of the suitors and faithless
housemaids in ' T h e Butchers' (a title which glancingly acknowledges
Belfast's most notorious sectarian killers, the Shankill Butchers). Many "I
Longley's poems, like M a c N e i c e ' s , are set in the west of Ireland,
particularly in M a y o , w h e r e he has a second h o m e . (His reading ol
Ireland t h r o u g h Scapa Flow in 'Ghost T o w n ' recalls the earlier poet's
use of Icelandic and Scottish landscapes.) 'River & Fountain', written i<>
mark the quatercentenery of Trinity College, embodies an ingcniousK
personal, typically delicate response to the demands of public poetry.

IN MEMORIAM

M y f a t h e r , let n o similes eclipse

W h e r e crosses l i k e s o m e forest simplified
S i n k r o o t s i n t o m y m i n d ; t h e s l o w sands
O f y o u r h i s t o r y d e l a y till t h r o u g h y o u . e y e s
I read y o u like a b o o k . Before y o u died,
R e - e n l i s t i n g w i t h all t h e b r o k e n s o l d i e r s
Y o u b e n t b e n e a t h y o u r rucksack, near collapse,
In anecdote rehearsed and summarised
T h e s e words I write in m e m o r y . Let yours
A n d o t h e r heartbreaks play i n t o m y hands.

N o w I see i n c l o s e - u p , i n m y m i n d ' s e y e ,
T h e c r a c k e d a n d s p l i n t e r e d d e a d for p i t y ' s s a k e
Each dismal e v e n i n g predecease the sun,
Y o u , l o o k i n g d e a t h a n d n i g h t m a r e i n t h e face
W i t h y o u r kilt, h a r m o n i c a a n d g u n ,
G r o w o l d e r i n a flash, b u t n o n e t h e w i s e r
( W h o , f o l l o w i n g t h e w r o n g q u e u e a t T h e Palac
H a v e j o i n e d the L o n d o n Scottish b y mistake),
Y o u r n i n e t e e n years u n c e r t a i n i f and w h y
B e l g i u m p u t t h e k i b o s h o n t h e Kaiser.

B e t w e e n the corpses and the soup canteens

Y o u s w o o n e d a w a y , w a t c h i n g y o u r f u t u r e spill.
B u t , as it was, y o u r p r o p e r funeral u r n
H a d mercifully smashed to smithereens,
T o s h r a p n e l s h a r d s t h a t sliced y o u r t e s t i c l e .
T h a t instant I, y o u r m o s t unlikely son,
I n N o M a n ' s L a n d w a s s u r e l y left for d e a d ,
B l o t t e d o u t f r o m y o u r far h o r i z o n .
As y o u r voice n o w is l o c k e d inside my head,
I yet was held secure, waiting my turn.

Finally, that lousy w a r was over.

Stranded in France and in need of proof
Y o u h u n t e d d o w n experimental lovers,
P e r s u a d i n g c h o r u s girls a n d c o u n t e s s e s :
T h i s , f a t h e r , t h e last c o n f i d e n c e y o u s p o k e .
In my twentieth year y o u r old w o u n d s w o k e
As cancer. Lodging u n d e r the same roof
D e a t h was a visitor w h o h u n g a b o u t ,
S t r e w i n g t h e h o u s e w i t h pills a n d b a n d a g e s ,
Till h e c h o s e t o p u t y o u r spirit o u t .

••I
T h o u g h they overslept the sequence of events
W h i c h ended with the ambulance outside,
Y o u l i n g e r i n g i n t h e hall, y o u r b o w e l s o n fire,
T e a r s i n y o u r e y e s , a n d all y o u r m e d a l s s p e n t ,
I s u m m o n girls w h o p a c k e d a t last a n d w e n t
U n d e r g r o u n d w i t h y o u . T h e i r souls a g a i n o n hii
N o w t h o s e lost w i v e s a s r e - c r e a t e d b r i d e s
T a k e shape before m e , materialise.
On the verge of light and happy legend
T h e y lift t h e i r skirts like b l i n d s across y o u r e y e s .

CARAVAN

A rickety c h i m n e y suggests
T h e diminutive stove,
Children perhaps, the pots
A n d pans adding up to love -

So m u c h concentrated under
T h e l o w roof, t h e w i n d o w s
S h u t t e r e d against s n o w a n d w i n d .
T h a t y o u w o u l d be magnified

(If y o u w e r e t h e r e ) b y t h e d a r k ,
W e a r i n g it like an a p r o n
A n d revolving in your hands
A s w e a t h e r i n a glass d o m e ,

T h e blizzard, the day b e y o n d

A n d - t i n y , b a r e l y in f o c u s -
Me disappearing out of v i e w
On probably the only horse,

C a n t e r i n g off t o t h e r i g h t
T o collect the w e e k ' s groceries,
O r t o b e g o n e for g o o d
H a v i n g d r a w n across m y e y e s
 L i k e a c u r t a i n all t h a t l i g h t
A n d the s n o w , m y history
Stiffening w i t h the tea t o w e l s
H u n g outside the d o o r to dry.

WOUNDS

H e r e are t w o p i c t u r e s f r o m m y f a t h e r ' s h e a d -
I have k e p t t h e m like secrets until n o w :
First, t h e U l s t e r D i v i s i o n a t t h e S o m m e
Going over the top with 'Fuck the Pope!'
' N o Surrender!': a b o y about to die,
S c r e a m i n g ' G i v e ' e m o n e for t h e S h a n k i l l ! '
' W i l d e r than G u r k h a s ' w e r e m y father's w o r d s
Of admiration and bewilderment.
N e x t comes the London-Scottish padre
R e s e t t l i n g kilts w i t h his s w a g g e r - s t i c k ,
W i t h a stylish b a c k h a n d a n d a p r a y e r .
O v e r a landscape of dead buttocks
M y f a t h e r f o l l o w e d h i m for fifty y e a r s .
At last, a b e l a t e d c a s u a l t y ,
He said - l e a d t r a c e s flaring till t h e y h u r t -
' I a m d y i n g for K i n g a n d C o u n t r y , s l o w l y . '
I t o u c h e d his h a n d , his t h i n h e a d I t o u c h e d .

N o w , w i t h military h o n o u r s of a kind,
W i t h his b a d g e s , his m e d a l s l i k e r a i n b o w s ,
His spinning compass, I bury beside h i m
T h r e e t e e n a g e s o l d i e r s , bellies full o f
B u l l e t s a n d Irish b e e r , t h e i r flies u n d o n e .
A packet of W o o d b i n e s I t h r o w in,
A lucifer, t h e S a c r e d H e a r t o f J e s u s
Paralysed as h e a v y guns p u t o u t
T h e n i g h t - l i g h t i n a n u r s e r y for e v e r ;
Also a b u s - c o n d u c t o r ' s u n i f o r m -
I It- c o l l a p s e d b e s i d e his c a r p e t - s l i p p e r s
W i t h o u t a m u r m u r , shot t h r o u g h the head
By a shivering b o y w h o w a n d e r e d in
B e f o r e tlicy < o u l d t u r n t h e t e l e v i s i o n d o w n

223
 O r tidy away t h e s u p p e r dishes.
To the children, to a bewildered wife,
I t h i n k ' S o r r y M i s s u s ' w a s w h a t h e said.

GHOST T O W N

I h a v e l o c a t e d it, m y g h o s t t o w n -
A place of i n t e r m i n a b l e afternoons,
Sad c o t t a g e s , s c y t h e s r u s t i n g i n t h e t h a t c h ;
Of so m a n y hesitant surrenders to
E n f o l d i n g b o g , t h e scuts o f b o g c o t t o n .

T h e few residents include o n e h e r m i t

Persisting w i t h a goat and t w o kettles
A m o n g the b r a c k e n , a n e r v o u s spinster
I n c h a r g e o f t h e p o s t office, a l i g h t h o u s e - k e e p ^
W h o e m e r g e s t o c o l l e c t his g r o c e r i e s .

S i n c e n o o n e has g o t a r o u n d t o i t y e t
I shall r e s t o r e t h e sign w h i c h r e a d s CINEMA,
R e s c u e f r o m t h e v e r g e o f invisibility
T h e f a d e d stills o f t h e last silent f e a t u r e -
I shall b e c o m e t h e local e c c e n t r i c :

A l r e a d y I h a v e r e t i r e d t h e r e t o fill
S e v e r a l gaps i n m y e d u c a t i o n -
T h e weather's ways, a handful of neglected
P e n t a t o n i c m e l o d i e s a n d , after a w h i l e ,
D i a l e c t w o r d s for t h e p a r t s o f t h e b o d y .

I n d e e d , w i t h s o m u c h o n m y hands, family
A n d friends a r e d e f i n i t e l y n o t w e l c o m e -
Although by the time I am accepted there
( A r e p u t a t i o n a n d m y o w n half-acre)
I shall h a v e w r i t t e n a n o t h e r l e t t e r h o m e .
 MAN LYING ON A WALL
Homage to L.S. Lowry

Y o u c o u l d d r a w a straight line from t h e heels,

T h r o u g h calves, b u t t o c k s and shoulderblades
To the back of the head: pressure points
T h a t b e a r t h e e n o r m o u s w e i g h t o f t h e sky.
Should you take away the supporting structure
T h e result w o u l d b e a m i r a c l e o r
A n e x t r e m e l y clever c o n j u r i n g trick.
A s i t is, t h e m a n l y i n g o n t h e w a l l
Is w e a r i n g the serious expression
O f p o p e s a n d k i n g s i n t h e i r final s l u m b e r ,
H i s d e p o r t m e n t n o t dissimilar t o
T h e i r stiff, r e l u c t a n t exits f r o m this w o r l d
A b o v e the shoulders of the multitude.

I t i s difficult t o j u d g e w h e t h e r o r n o t
He is sleeping or m e r e l y disinclined
T o a r r i v e p u n c t u a l l y a t t h e office
O r t o r e t u r n h o m e i n t i m e for his tea.
H e i s w e a r i n g a p i n s t r i p e suit, b l a c k s h o e s
A n d a b o w l e r hat: on the p a v e m e n t
B e l o w h i m , l i k e a relic o r s o m e t h i n g
H e i s t r y i n g t o f o r g e t , his briefcase
W i t h e v e r y b o d y ' s initials o n it.

WREATHS

T H E CIVIL SERVANT

H e w a s p r e p a r i n g a n U l s t e r fry for breakfast

W h e n s o m e o n e walked into the kitchen and shot h i m
A b u l l e t e n t e r e d his m o u t h a n d p i e r c e d his s k u l l ,
T h e b o o k s h e h a d r e a d , t h e m u s i c h e c o u l d play.

I le l a y in his d r e s s i n g g o w n a n d p y j a m a s
W h i l e t h e y d u s t e d t h e d r e s s e r for f i n g e r p r i n t s
A n d t h e n shuffled b a c k w a r d s across t h e g a r d e n
W i t h notebooks, i .unci.is a n d measuring tapes
 T h e y r o l l e d h i m u p l i k e a r e d c a r p e t a n d left
O n l y a bullet hole in the cutlery drawer;
L a t e r his w i d o w t o o k a h a m m e r a n d c h i s e l
A n d r e m o v e d t h e b l a c k k e y s f r o m his p i a n o .

THE GREENGROCER

He ran a g o o d s h o p , and he died

Serving even the death-dealers
W h o f o u n d h i m b u s y a s usual
B e h i n d the counter, organised
W i t h h o l l y w r e a t h s for C h r i s t m a s ,
Fir t r e e s o n t h e p a v e m e n t o u t s i d e .

Astrologers or three wise m e n

W h o m a y shortly b e setting o u t
F o r a small h o u s e u p t h e S h a n k i l l
O r t h e Falls, s h o u l d p a u s e o n t h e i r w a y
T o b u y gifts a t J i m G i b s o n ' s s h o p ,
Dates and chestnuts and tangerines.

THE LINEN WORKERS

Christ's teeth ascended with h i m into heaven:

T h r o u g h a c a v i t y i n o n e o f his m o l a r s
T h e w i n d w h i s t l e s : h e i s f a s t e n e d for e v e r
B y his e x p o s e d c a n i n e s t o a w i n t r y sky.

I am blinded by the blaze of that smile

A n d b y t h e m e m o r y o f m y f a t h e r ' s false t e e t h
B r i m m i n g in their tumbler: they w o r e bubbles
A n d , o u t s i d e o f his b o d y , a d e a d l y g r i n .

W h e n they massacred the ten linen w o r k e r s

T h e r e fell o n t h e r o a d b e s i d e t h e m s p e c t a c l e s ,
W a l l e t s , small c h a n g e , a n d a set o f d e n t u r e s :
B l o o d , food particles, t h e bread, the w i n e .

B e f o r e I c a n b u r y m y f a t h e r o n c e again
I m u s t polish the spectacles, balance t h e m
U p o n his n o s e , fill his p o c k e t s w i t h m o n e y
A n d i n t o Ins d e a d m o u t h slip the- set ol t e e t h .
 from MAYO M O N O L O G U E S

SELF-HEAL

I w a n t e d to teach h i m the names of flowers,

Self-heal a n d c e n t a u r y ; o n t h e l o n g acre
W h e r e cattle n e v e r graze, b o g a s p h o d e l .
C o u l d I love s o m e o n e so g o n e in the head
A n d , a s t h e y say, w a s I l e a d i n g h i m o n ?
H e ' d slept i n t h e c o t u n t i l h e w a s t w e l v e
B e c a u s e o f his b a b y i s h w a y s , I s u p p o s e ,
O r t h e lack o f a b e d : h a d n ' t his f a t h e r
G a m b l e d a w a y all b u t r u s h y p a s t u r e ?
H i s skull s e e m e d t o b e h a m m e r e d l i k e a w e d g e
I n t o his s h o u l d e r s , a n d his b a c k w a s h u n c h e d ,
W h i c h g a v e h i m a n a l m o s t s c h o l a r l y air.
But he couldn't r e m e m b e r the things I taught:
E a c h n a m e w o u l d h o v e r a b o v e its f l o w e r
Like a butterfly u n a b l e to alight.
T h a t day I pulled a c u c k o o - p i n t apart
T o release t h e g i d d y i n s e c t s f r o m t h e i r cell.
G e n t l y h e s l i p p e d his h a n d b e t w e e n m y t h i g h s .
I w a s n ' t f r i g h t e n e d ; a n d still I d o n ' t k n o w w h y ,
B u t I ran f r o m h i m i n tears t o tell t h e m .
I h e a r d h o w e v e r y d a y for o n e w h o l e w e e k
He was flogged with a blackthorn, then tethered
I n t h e hayfield. I m i g h t h a v e b e e n t h e c o w
W h o s e tail h e w o u l d l a t e r d o c k w i t h s h e a r s ,
A n d he the ram tangled in barbed wire
T h a t h e s t o n e d t o d e a t h w h e n t h e y set h i m free.

T H E LINEN INDUSTRY

P u l l i n g u p f l a x after t h e b l u e f l o w e r s h a v e fallen
A n d laying o u r handfuls in the peaty w a t e r
T o r o t t h o s e grasses t o t h e b o n e , o r b u i l d i n g s t o o k s
T h a t recall t h e skirts o f a n invisible d a n c e r ,

W e b e c o m e a part o l t h e l i n e n i n d u s t r y
A n d follow it-> p r o c e s s e s n> ili<- g r u b b y t o w n

227
W h e r e fields a r e c o m p a c t e d i n t o w i n d o w - b o x e s
A n d t h e r e i s little r o o m a m o n g t h e b i g m a c h i n e s .

B u t e v e n i n o u r attic u n d e r t h e s k y l i g h t
We make love on a bleach green, the w h o l e m e a d o w
D r a p e d w i t h material turning white in the sun
A s t h o u g h s n o w reluctant t o m e l t w e r e o u r attire.

W h a t ' s p a s s i o n b u t a b a t t e r i n g o f s t u b b o r n stalks,
T h e n a g e n t l e c o m b i n g o u t o f fibres l i k e h a i r
A n d a w e a v i n g of these into christening robes,
I n t o g a r m e n t s for a m a r r i a g e o r funeral?

S i n c e it's l i k e a b e r e a v e m e n t o n c e t h e l a b o u r ' s d o n e
T o find o u r s e l v e s last w o r k e r s i n a d y i n g t r a d e ,
L e t flax b e o u r m a t c h m a k e r , o u r u n d e r t a k e r ,
T h e p r o v i d e r o f s h e e t s for w h a t e v e r t h e b e d -

A n d b e shy o f y o u r breasts i n the p r e s e n c e o f death,

Say t h a t y o u l o o k m o r e b e a u t i f u l i n l i n e n
W e a r i n g white petticoats, the b o w on y o u r bodice
A butterfly attending the e m b r o i d e r e d flowers.

BETWEEN HOVERS
in memory of Joe O'Toole

A n d n o t e v e n w h e n w e ran over the badger

D i d h e tell m e h e h a d c a n c e r , J o e O ' T o o l e
W h o was psychic about carburettor and clutch
A n d k n e w a folk c u r e for t h e s t a r t e r - e n g i n e .
B a c k i n g i n t o t h e dark we floodlit each hair
L i k e a f i l a m e n t o f l i g h t o u r lights h a d p u t o u t
Somewhere between Kinnadoohy and Thallabaun.
I dragged it by t w o gritty paws into the ditch.
J o e spotted a ruby w h e r e the canines t o u c h e d .
H i s w a y o f s e e i n g m e safely across t h e d u a c h
W a s t o l e a v e his p o r c h l i g h t b u r n i n g , its s p a r k l e
S h i f t i n g f r o m w i d g e o n t o teal o n C o r r a g a u n L a k e .
I missed liis funeral, ( . l o s e to t h e s t o n y r o a d s

22«
 H e lies i n K i l l e e n C h u r c h y a r d o v e r t h e hill.
This m o r n i n g o n the burial m o u n d a t T e m p l e d o o m o r e
Encircled by a spring tide and taking in
Cloonaghmanagh and Claggan and Carrigskeewaun,
T h e townlands he'd wandered tending cows and sheep,
I w a t c h e d a d y i n g o t t e r gaze right t h r o u g h me
A t t h e islands i n C l e w B a y , a s t h o u g h i t w e r e o n l y
B e t w e e n h o v e r s a n d n o t t o o far f r o m t h e h o l t .

H O M E R I C POEMS

LAERTES

W h e n h e found Laertes alone o n the tidy terrace, h o e i n g

A r o u n d a v i n e , d i s r e p u t a b l e i n his g a r d e n i n g d u d s ,
P a t c h e d a n d g r u b b y , l e a t h e r gaiters p r o t e c t i n g his shins
A g a i n s t b r a m b l e s , g l o v e s a s w e l l , a n d , t o c a p i t all,
S u r e sign o f his d e e p d e p r e s s i o n , a g o a t s k i n d u n c h e r ,
O d y s s e u s s o b b e d i n t h e s h a d e o f a p e a r - t r e e for his f a t h e r
S o o l d a n d p a t h e t i c t h a t all h e w a n t e d t h e n a n d t h e r e
W a s t o kiss h i m a n d h u g h i m a n d b l u r t o u t t h e w h o l e s t o r y ,
B u t the w h o l e story is o n e catalogue and t h e n another,
S o h e w a i t e d for i m a g e s f r o m t h a t f o r m a l g a r d e n ,
E v i d e n c e o f a c h i l d h o o d s p e n t t r a i p s i n g after his f a t h e r
A n d a s k i n g for e v e r y t h i n g h e s a w , t h e t h i r t e e n p e a r - t r e e s ,
T e n a p p l e - t r e e s , f o r t y f i g - t r e e s , t h e fifty r o w s o f v i n e s
R i p e n i n g a t d i f f e r e n t t i m e s for a c o n t i n u o u s s u p p l y ,
U n t i l L a e r t e s r e c o g n i s e d his s o n a n d , w e a k a t t h e k n e e s ,
D i z z y , f l u n g his a r m s a r o u n d t h e n e c k o f g r e a t O d y s s e u s
W h o d r e w t h e o l d m a n f a i n t i n g t o his b r e a s t a n d h e l d h i m t h e r e
A n d c r a d l e d l i k e d r i f t w o o d t h e b o n e s o f his d w i n d l i n g f a t h e r .

ARGOS

T h e r e w e r e o t h e r separations, and so m a n y of t h e m
T h a t A r g o s t h e d o g w h o w a i t e d t w e n t y y e a r s for O d y s s e u s
H a s g o n e o n w a i t i n g , still n e g l e c t e d o n t h e m a n u r e - h e a p
A t o u r front d o o r , f l e a - r i d d e n , m o r e d e a d t h a n alive
W h o chased wild g o a t s o n c e , and r o e - d e e r ; t h e favourite,
A real t h o r o u g h b r e d , a m a r v e l at pi< k i n g up t h e s c e n t ,

• ••>
 W h o e v e n n o w i s w a g g i n g his tail a n d d r o o p i n g his ears
A n d struggling to get nearer to the voice he recognises
A n d d y i n g i n t h e a t t e m p t ; u n t i l like O d y s s e u s
W e w e e p for A r g o s t h e d o g , a n d for all t h o s e o t h e r d o g s ,
For the r o u n d i n g - u p of hamsters, the panic of white mice
A n d t h e d e p o r t a t i o n o f o n e c a n a r y called P e p i c e k .

THE BUTCHERS

W h e n h e h a d m a d e s u r e t h e r e w e r e n o s u r v i v o r s i n his h o u s e
A n d t h a t all t h e s u i t o r s w e r e d e a d , h e a p e d i n b l o o d a n d d u s t
Like fish that fishermen w i t h f i n e - m e s h e d nets have hauled
U p g a s p i n g for salt w a t e r , e v a p o r a t i n g i n t h e s u n s h i n e ,
O d y s s e u s , s p a t t e r e d w i t h m u c k a n d like a l i o n d r i p p i n g b l o o d
F r o m his c h e s t a n d c h e e k s after d e v o u r i n g a f a r m e r ' s b u l l o c k ,
O r d e r e d t h e disloyal h o u s e m a i d s t o s p o n g e d o w n t h e a r m c h a i r s
A n d tables, w h i l e T e l e m a c h o s , t h e o x h e r d a n d t h e s w i n e h e r d
Scraped t h e floor w i t h shovels, and t h e n b e t w e e n the p o r t i c o
And the roundhouse stretched a hawser and hanged the w o m e n
S o n o n e t o u c h e d t h e g r o u n d w i t h h e r t o e s , like l o n g - w i n g e d
thrushes
O r d o v e s t r a p p e d i n a m i s t - n e t across t h e t h i c k e t w h e r e t h e y
roost,
T h e i r h e a d s b o b b i n g i n a r o w , t h e i r feet t w i t c h i n g b u t n o t for
long,
A n d w h e n they had dragged Melanthios's corpse into the
haggard
A n d c u t off his n o s e a n d ears a n d c o c k a n d balls, a d o g ' s d i n n e r ,
O d y s s e u s , s e e i n g t h e n e e d for w h i t e w a s h a n d d i s i n f e c t a n t ,
Fumigated the house and the outhouses, so that H e r m e s
Like a clergyman might w a v e the supernatural baton
W i t h w h i c h he resurrects or hypnotises those he chooses,
A n d w a k e n a n d r o u n d u p t h e s u i t o r s ' souls, a n d t h e h o u s e m a i d s ' ,
L i k e bats g i b b e r i n g i n t h e n o o k s o f t h e i r m y s t e r i o u s c a v e
W h e n o u t o f t h e clusters t h a t d a n g l e f r o m t h e r o c k y c e i l i n g
O n e o f t h e m d r o p s a n d s q u e a k s , s o t h e i r souls w e r e b a t - s q u e a k s
A s t h e y f l i t t e r e d after H e r m e s , t h e i r d e l i v e r e r , w h o l e d t h e m
A l o n g t h e c l a m m y s h e u g h s , t h e n past t h e o c e a n i c s t r e a m s
A n d the w h i t e rock, the sun's gatepost in that d r e a m y region.
U n t i l t h e y c a m e to a b o g - m e a d o w full of b o g - a s p h o d e l s
W h e r e ( h e r e s i d e n t s are g h o s t s o r i m a g e s o f t h e c h a d .

2 K)
 PHEMIOS & MEDON

Still l o o k i n g for a s c o o t - h o l e , P h e n i i o s t h e p o e t
I n s w i t h e r s , f i d d l i n g w i t h his h a r p , j u k e s t o t h e h a t c h ,
Lays t h e b r u c k l e y o k e b e t w e e n p o r r i n g e r a n d a r m c h a i r ,
M a k e s a r a m - s t a m for O d y s s e u s , g r a m m e l s his k n e e s ,
T h e n b a n n i e s a n d b a m s w i this h i g h f a l u t i n b l e t h e r :
' I ask for p i t y a n d r e s p e c t . H o w c o u l d y o u c o n d e m n
A p o e t w h o w r i t e s for his p e o p l e a n d P a r n a s s u s ,
A u t o d i d a c t , his r e p e r t o i r e g o d - g i v e n ? I b e g y o u
N o t t o b e p r e c i p i t a t e a n d c u t off m y h e a d . S p a r e m e
A n d I'll i m m o r t a l i s e y o u i n a n o d e . T e l e m a c h o s
Y o u r o w n dear son will v o u c h that I was no p a r t y - h a c k
A t the suitors' dinner-parties. O v e r w h e l m e d and o u t -
N u m b e r e d , I g a v e p o e t r y r e a d i n g s against m y w i l l . '
I g u l d e r t o m e da: ' D i n n a e g u t h i m w i y e r g u l l y ,
H e ' s only a harmless crayter. A n d h o w ' s a b o u t M e d o n
T h e toast-master w h o s e a s h y - p e t I was? D i d y e d i n g h i m
W h e n the o x h e r d and the swineherd s t o r m e d the steading
T h o n oul gabble-blooter's a canny h u e r a n d hears me
F r o m his f o x ' s - s l u m b e r i n c o w - h i d e s u n d e r a c h a i r -
O u t h e spalters, flaffing his h a n d s , b l i r t i n g t o m y k n e e s :
' H e r e I a m , d e a r b o y ! P u t i n a w o r d for m e b e f o r e
Y o u r h o t - b l o o d e d pater slaughters me as o n e of t h e m -
T h e suitors I m e a n , bread-snappers, belly-bachelors.'
L o n g - h e a d e d O d y s s e u s s m i l e s a t h i m a n d says: ' W h e e s h t !
Y o u m a y t h a n k T e l e m a c h o s for this c h a n c e t o w i s e u p
A n d pass o n t h e m e s s a g e o f o u l d a c e n c y . G o o u t
A n d sit i n t h e h a g g a r d a w a y f r o m this m a s s a c r e ,
Y o u and the well-spoken poet, while I redd the house.'
T h e y h o o k i t a n d h u n k e r f o r n e n s t t h e altar o f Z e u s ,
A f e a r d a n d s k e l l y - e y e d , k e e k i n g e v e r y w h e r e for d e a t h .

RIVER & F O U N T A I N

I .1111 w.liking b a c k w a r d s into the future like a G r e e k .

I h a v e n o t h i n g to s a y . T h e r e is n o t h i n g I w o u l d describe

MI
I t w a s a l w a y s t h u s : a s i f s n o w has fallen o n F r o n t
Square, and, feeling the d o w n y silence of t h e snowflakes
T h a t cover cobbles and each other, w h i t e erasing w h i t e ,
I read s h a d o w and snow-drift u n d e r the C a m p a n i l e .

II

' I t fits o n t o t h e b a c k o f a p o s t a g e s t a m p , ' R o b e r t said

As he scribbled out in tiny symbols the equation,
H i s s i l h o u e t t e a f r o s t - f l o w e r o n t h e w i n d o w o f m y last
Y e a r , his p a g e t h e sky b e t w e e n c h i m n e y - s t a c k s , his h e a d
A n d m y h e a d a t t h e c i t y ' s c e n t r e a c h i n g for g i d d y
L i m i t s , m a t h e m a t i c s , p o e t r y , s q u e a k y n i b s a t all h o u r s .

Ill

T o p o f t h e staircase, N u m b e r S i x t e e n i n B o t a n y B a y ,
S l u m - d w e l l e r s , w e survived gas-rings that p o p p e d , slop-
Buckets in the b e d r o o m s , changeable 'wives', and toasted
D o u g h y doorsteps, F r e s h m e n turning into Sophisters
I n f r o n t o f t h e h i g g l e d y flames: o u r still—life, crusts
A n d b u t t e r y b o o k s , the half-empty m a r m a l a d e jar.

IV

M y D a n s e t t e r e c o r d p l a y e r b o t t l e d u p like g e n i e s
Sibelius, S h o s t a k o v i c h , B r u c k n e r , dusty sleeves
A c c u m u l a t i n g next to Liddel and Scott's Greek-English
Lexicon v o i c e s t h e fluffy n e e d l e set a l m o s t free.
I was the culture vulture from Ulster, Vincent's j o k e
W h o h e a r d Tlie Rite of Spring a n d c o n t e m p l a t e d s u i c i d e .

A d a m w a s first t o r e a d t h e m a r o o n - c o v e r e d n o t e b o o k s
I filled w i t h i n n o c e n t o u t p o u r i n g s , A d a m t h e s c h o l a r
W h o s e s t a m m e r c o u l d s t o p h i m c h r i s t e n i n g this a n d t h a t ,
W h o s e E d e n w a s a n n o t a t i o n a n d v o c a b u l a r y lists
I n a p r e c i s e classicist's h a n d , t h e l o v e o f w o r d s a s w o r d s .
M y first a n d b e s t r e v i e w w a s A d a m ' s ' I like t h e s e - I - I - '

232
 VI

' C o l l e g e p o e t ? Village idiot y o u m e a n ! ' ( V i n c e n t again).

I n n e i t h e r p r o f e s s i o n c o u l d I settle c o m f o r t a b l y
O n c e D e r e k arrived reciting R i m b a u d , giving names
T o the constellations over the E x a m i n a t i o n Hall.
'Are you Longley? C a n I b o r r o w y o u r typewriter? Soon?'
H i s w a s t h e first s n o w p a r t y I a t t e n d e d . I felt t h e c o l d .

VII

W e w e r e from the N o r t h , hitch-hikers o n the N e w r y Road,

Faces that vanished from a h u n d r e d driving-mirrors
D o w n that w a r r e n of reflections - O ' N e i l l ' s Bar, Nesbitt's -
A n d through Front Gate to C o n n e m a r a and Inishere,
T h e raw experience o f m a r k e t t o w n s and clachans, t h e n
B a c k t o R o o m s , village o f m i n d s , p o e t r y ' s t o w n l a n d .

VIII

T h o u g h C o l l e g e S q u a r e i n Belfast a n d t h e L i n e n H a l l
H a d been our patch, n o b o d y m e n t i o n e d William Drennan.
In D u b l i n w h a t dreams of liberty, the Index, the Ban:
Etonians on C o m m o n s cut o u r accents w i t h a knife.
W h e n B r e n d a n from Ballylongford defied t h e B i s h o p , w e
Flapped o u r wings t o g e t h e r and w e r e m e l t e d in the sun.

IX

A b a t h - h o u s e l o t u s - e a t e r - fags, s o d d e n Irish Times -

I tagged along w i t h the Fabians, to embarrass C h u r c h
A n d State o u r grand design. W o u l d - b e class-warriors
W e raised, for a m o m e n t , t h e R e d Flag a t t h e R u b r i c s ,
T h e n j o i n e d the Civil Service and talked of Civil Rights.
W a s T r i n i t y a T r o j a n H o r s e ? W e r e w e G r e e k s a t all?

' T h e G o l d e n M e a n is a tension, Ladies, G e n t l e m e n ,

A n d not a dead level': the H o m e r i c head of Stanford
W h o w o u l d n e a r l y s i n g t h e first lines o f t h e Odyssey.
T h a i year I s h o u l d h a v e failed, b u t , t e a c h i n g t h e Poetics,

233
H e a s k e d u s for d e f i n i t i o n s , a n d a c c e p t e d m i n e :
'Sir, if p r o s e is a river, t h e n p o e t r y ' s a f o u n t a i n . '

XI

S o m e o n e has s k i p p e d t h e s e m i n a r . I m a g i n e his face,

T h e c h i l d r e n ' s faces, m y w i f e ' s : s h e sat b e s i d e m e t h e n
A n d they w e r e waiting to be b o r n , ghosts from a future
W i t h o u t T o m : h e fell i n l o v e j u s t o n c e a n d d i e d o f it.
O h , t o h a v e t u r n e d a w a y f r o m e v e r y t h i n g t o o n e face,
E r o s a n d T h a n a t o s y o u r g o d s , icicle a n d d e w .

XII

W a l k i n g f o r w a r d s i n t o t h e past w i t h m o r e o f a n i d e a
I w a n t t o say t o m y friends o f t h i r t y y e a r s a g o
A n d t o d a u g h t e r s a n d a s o n t h a t Belfast i s o u r h o m e ,
P r o s e a r i v e r still - t h e Liffey, t h e L a g a n - a n d p o e t r y
A f o u n t a i n t h a t plays i n a n i m a g i n a r y F r o n t S q u a r e .
W h e n s n o w falls i t i s f e a t h e r s f r o m t h e w i n g s o f I c a r u s .

.Ml
 M I C H A E L H A R T N E T T

B o r n Newcastle West, C o u n t y Limerick, 1941. Educated at University

College Dublin. Lived in L o n d o n and Madrid in the 1960s before
returning to Ireland to w o r k variously as a telephonist, house painter and
lecturer in creative writing. N o w lives in Dublin. A prolific translator,
Hartnett has published versions of Lorca, Dáibhí O Bruadair, Pádraigín
Haicéad and Nuala Ni D h o m h n a i l l in book form. Currently w o r k i n g on
a v o l u m e of translations from Aodhagán O Rathaille.

T h e v e h e m e n t , unironical tonalities of Hartnett's poetry place it further

from the orthodoxies of t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y taste than the w o r k of any
comparably gifted c o n t e m p o r a r y Irish writer. Distrustful of a m o d e r n i t y
w h i c h threatens c o m m u n a l i t y and its supporting context in the natural
world, Hartnett seeks continuity w i t h the e i g h t e e n t h - c e n t u r y poets of
his native M u n s t e r - m o u t h p i e c e s of a dying Gaelic culture - rather than
with the individualist traditions of n i n e t e e n t h - and t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y
E u r o p e a n verse. F r o m 1975 to 1985 he asserted that continuity by
writing only in Irish. T h o u g h vigorous and various, his Irish verse
generally lacks the hard clarity of his best w o r k in English. T h e first
three pieces in the selection represent the spare lyricism of his early
manner. 'Sneachta Gealai ' 7 7 ' bewails the i m p o t e n c e of the p o e t in the
m o d e r n world, a t h e m e H a r t n e t t w o u l d address w i t h rage in ' A n
P h u r g h ó i d ' ('The Purge') and with bleak melancholy in 'An Mánlia
N o c h t ' ('The N a k e d Surgeon'), t w o long p o e m s in Irish. Like m u c h of
his prolific o u t p u t since his return to English, ' T h e M a n w h o W r o t e
Yeats, the M a n w h o W r o t e Mozart' probes the mystery - and the
morality - of the creative act.

233
 BREAD

H e r iron beats
t h e smell of b r e a d
from d a m p linen,
silver, crystal
and w a r m w h i t e things.
Whatever bird
I used to b e ,
hawk or lapwing,
tern, or something
w i l d , fierce o r s h y ,
t h e s e b i r d s are d e a d
and I c o m e here
on tiring wings.
Odours of bread . . .

I HAVE EXHAUSTED T H E DELIGHTED RANGE . . .

I have exhausted the delighted range

o f small b i r d s , a n d n o w , a n e w e n d t o p a i n
m a k e s a m i r a g e o f w h a t I w i s h e d m y life.
T o r t u r e , i m m e d i a t e to m e , is strange;
all t h a t i s left o f t h e o r g a n s r e m a i n
in an anaesthetic of unbelief.

C o e r c e d b y trivia, n o t h i n g t o gain
b u t n o w , or to be pleased t h r o u g h o n e long night

a n d forsake i n s t e a d s o m e t h i n g i m m o r t a l ?
A n d t h e graceless h e r o n i s k i l l e d i n f l i g h t
a n d falls like a l o p p e d flower i n t o t h e stalks.

S m a l l b i r d s , small p o e m s , are n o t i m m o r t a l :
n o r , h o w e v e r passed, is o n e intense night:
t h e r e i s n o t i m e n o w for m y d r e a m o f h a w k s .

236
 FOR MY G R A N D M O T H E R , BRIDGET HALPIN

M a y b e m o r n i n g lightens over
t h e c o l d e s t t i m e i n all t h e d a y ,
b u t n o t for y o u . A b i r d ' s h o v e r ,
seabird, blackbird, or bird of p r e y ,
w a s r a i n , o r d e a t h , o r lost c a t t l e .
T h e day's w a r n i n g , t h e r e d plovers
s o e t c h e d a n d small i n c l o u d e d sky
was b o o k to y o u , and true bible.
Y o u died in utter loneliness,
y o u r acres left t o t h e childless.
Y o u n e v e r saw the animals
of God, and the flower under
y o u r feet: a n d t h e t r e e s c h a n g e a leaf;
a n d t h e r e d fur o f a fox o n
a quiet evening; and the long
b i r c h e s falling d o w n t h e hillside.

from A FAREWELL TO ENGLISH

for Brendan Kennelly

H e r eyes w e r e coins o f p o r t e r a n d h e r W e s t
Limerick voice talked velvet in the house:
h e r h a i r w a s b l a c k a s t h e glossy fireplace
w e a r i n g w i t h grace h e r S u n d a y - n i g h t - d a n c e best.
S h e c u t t h e f r o t h f r o m glasses w i t h a k n i f e
and h a m m e r e d golden whiskies on the bar
and her m o u n t a i n y body tripped the gentle
m e c h a n i s m of verse: the m i n u t e interlock
of w o r d and w o r d began, the r h y t h m formed.
I sunk my hands into tradition
sifting t h e c e n t u r i e s for w o r d s . T h i s q u i e t
e x c i t e m e n t was n o t n e w : e m o t i o n challenged m e
t o m a k e i t sayable. T h e c l i c h e s c a m e

237
 at first, like matchsticks s n a p p i n g from t h e w o r l d
of w o r k : mania, séimh, dubhfholtach, álainn, caoin:
t h e y c a m e like g r e y slabs o f slate b r e a k i n g f r o m
an ancient quarry, mania, séimh, dubhfholtach,
álainn, caoin, slowly vaulting d o w n t h e dark
u n u s e d e s c a r p m e n t s , mania, s é i m h , d u b h f h o l t a c h ,
álainn, caoin, crashing on t h e cogs, splinters
like axeheads d a m a g e d the wheels, clogging
the intricate m a c h i n e , mania, séimh,
dubhfholtach, álainn, caoin. T h e n Pegasus
pulled u p , the girth b r o k e and I was flung back
on the gravel of A n g l o - S a x o n .
W h a t was I d o i n g w i t h these foreign words?
I, the polisher of t h e c o m p l e x clause,
w i z a r d o f grasses a n d w a r l o c k o f b i r d s
m i d n i g h t - o i l e d i n t h e m e t r i c laws?

dubhfholtach: blacklockcd
álainn: beautiful
mania, svimh and caoin: w o r d s w h o s e m e a n i n g s h o v e r a b o u t t h e English
adjectives 'graceful', ' g e n t l e ' .

LAMENT FOR T A D H G C R O N I N ' S CHILDREN

T h a t d a y t h e sails o f t h e s h i p w e r e t o r n
a n d a fog o b s c u r e d t h e lawns.
In the whitewashed house the music stopped.
A spark j u m p e d up at the gables
a n d t h e silk q u i l t s o n t h e b e d c a u g h t f i r e .
T h e y c r y w i t h o u t tears -
their hearts cry -
for t h e t h r e e d e a d c h i l d r e n .

2 w
 Christ G o d neglect t h e m not
n o r leave t h e m in the g r o u n d !

T h e y w e r e ears o f c o r n !
T h e y w e r e apples!
T h e y w e r e three harpstnngs!
A n d n o w t h e i r l i m b s lie u n d e r g r o u n d
a n d t h e b l a c k b e e t l e w a l k s across t h e i r faces.
I, t o o , cry w i t h o u t tears -
my h e a r t cries -
for t h e t h r e e d e a d c h i l d r e n .

based on a poem by Aodhagán O Rathadle

THE MAN W H O W R O T E YEATS,

THE MAN W H O WROTE MOZART
for John B. Keane

I n crisp italic, m e t i c u l o u s a n d s i g n e d ,
the manuscripts arrived by every post.
From somewhere in the North.
From someone not quite right.
F r o m s o m e o n e w i t h a perfect h a n d w h o w r o t e ,
' " W h a t t h e n ? " sang Plato's ghost,
" W h a t does it shadow forth?"'
w i t h o n e w o r d changed in every o t h e r line.

I was c o n f r o n t e d o n c e again
b y a m i n d w h i c h lives b y t h a t
intangible, subordinating rule,
t h e m e n t a l scaffolding o f w h i c h
rests o n shifting g r o u n d :
the compulsion to believe
w h a t is provably u n t r u e ;
and seems to us to be
s o m e t h i n g not quite right,
something not quite sound.

2 vt
I c o u l d h a v e , v e r y easily, u n d e r m i n e d
the props that gave such m a k e b e l i e v e support;
but not so long before 1 w r o t e
a p i e c e b a s e d on a l i n e
I'd read in A l e x a n d e r P o p e -
s o c o u l d I n o w afford
to call his w o r k a fraud
and give the benefit of truth to m i n e ?
If he believed that he had written Yeats
as I believed my p o e m was m i n e
h e w a s n o s h a m b u t s i m p l y l a c k e d t h e art
t o m a k e his s o u r c e o p a q u e
w i t h a flourish o f t e c h n i q u e .
O r maybe h e was m a d
a n d w a s d a n c i n g t o a lie,
a d a n c e so f u r i o u s
t h a t i t d o e s n o t s t o p w h e n its m u s i c d o e s .

A n d I k n e w this lie: it is a b r a k e
t h a t h o l d s a frantic f l y w h e e l b a c k
w h i c h , i f it's l o o s e n e d ,
spins t h e c o g s i n s i d e t h e h e a d
at s u c h a f r i g h t e n i n g r a t e
it c u t s to fragile t a n g l e s
and to q u i v e r i n g springs
t h e fine m a c h i n e r y o f t h e b r a i n ;
for I h a v e s e e n a w o u n d e d m i n d r e t r e a t
a w a y f r o m w i n d o w s t h a t c o u l d see t h e s t r e e t
w h e n its lie has b e e n e x p o s e d
and m o v e to the dead corners of a house
and hide in the remotest r o o m
to where no contradictions c o m e
a n d a n e n d l e s s t a l k i n g flows
b e t w e e n i t a n d its c h e r i s h e d lie,
a b r o k e n doll in t a w d r y clothes.
A n d if anyone intrudes
a n d tries t o c o m f o r t a n d c o n f r o n t
t h e r e will b e s i l e n c e i n t h e r o o m s -
for after c o n t r a d i c t i o n s i l e n c e c o m e s .

.'•in
P e r h a p s h e sat t h e r e i n his n o r t h e r n g l e n ,
in some pub or kitchen, and convinced
an audience and himself
that a poet had arrived;
and so e n c h a n t e d w i t h the praise,
t h e a d u l a t i o n t h a t t h e Irish g i v e
to o n e they think a scribe,
he brought, with manic, altering p e n ,
astonished p o e m s of Yeats
before the eyes of equally astonished m e n .

A n d in Austria, 1791,
real rustics, i n a n e v e n i n g l i g h t ,
t r u d g e a n d m u r m u r u p a hill
t o w a r d s t h e e n t r a n c e of a g a u d y Schloss
t o s t a n d a b o u t a s t a t u e d y a r d all n i g h t ,
o b e d i e n t , at a t o t a l loss,
t o suffer m u s i c t h a t t h e y c a n n o t grasp
from Franz, t h e G r a f v o n Walsegg's quill.

' M y latest O p u s , a q u a r t e t
for ' c e l l o , f l u t e , v i o l a , v i o l i n ,
has g o t a s u a v e adagio, b a s e d
(with some refinements)
on a p e a s a n t air.
It floats a b o u t a n d interlaces, as it w e r e ,
all t h e fabric o f t h e p i e c e ,
w i t h its silver t h r e a d
a b o v e t h e l a b o u r o f t h e strings
t h a t t r y t o r e a c h a s e m b l a n c e o f its g r a c e
without ever getting there.'
T h u s , i n his b a r o q u e d o m a i n
(Stoppach, Pottschach, Ziegersberg and Klam)
the kindly C o u n t v o n Walsegg rambles on,
g r a c i o u s in a g i l d e d c h a i r ,
t o family a n d f r i e n d s ;
w i t h all t h e s e r v a n t s t h e r e
a d m i r i n g in its p l u s h

•II
t h e G e r m a n flute h e h a d e s p e c i a l l y m a d e
a n d his ' c e l l o , c h e s t n u t i n its c u r v e s ,
and the music, glittering on an ornate shelf
i n v e l l u m b i n d i n g s c o m m i s s i o n e d b y t h e Graf,
immaculately scripted by himself
(black n o t e s l i k e b e a d s o f j e t ,
t r e b l e clefs l i k e h e a d s o f f e r n ) :
Sonata, T r i o , and Q u a r t e t
by Franz A n t o n Hoffmeister and Francois D e v i e n n e
w i t h s o m e n o t e s c h a n g e d i n e v e r y o t h e r staff.

A n d yet the C o u n t loved music

(as m y f e l l o w - p o e t l o v e d
e v e r y line he e v e r cribbed).
A n adept o n t h e 'cello a n d t h e flute,
h e k e p t his c o u r t m u s i c i a n s ,
copied out whole works by hand,
and paid out gulden by the score;
b u t like m y f e l l o w - p o e t
the pages that he t u r n e d ,
t h e a l c h e m y o f quill a n d n i b ,
the structures of another m a n ,
the very perfume of the ink
transformed a striving to a d o r e
to a m o r e c u n n i n g thing.
V o n W a l s e g g h a d a n a u d i e n c e i n thrall
and was not b o t h e r e d that b e y o n d
t h e l i m i t s o f his c o u n t y a n d estate
his n a m e w a s n e v e r h e a r d ;
h e i n fact p r e f e r r e d
(to possible e x p o s u r e a n d disdain)
t h e s m u g c o m f o r t of a local fame.
B u t D e a t h w h i c h disregards
all c l a i m s a n d p r o v e n a n c e
c a m e i n t o his ersatz life
a n d t o o k his t w e n t y - y e a r - o l d
C o u n t e s s off his h a n d s ;
a n d o n l y finest m a r b l e ,

242
m a r b l e cut like m u s i c ,
and music that was marble-like
w o u l d d o t o m a r k his m o u r n i n g for his w i f e :
s o j o h a n n Martin Fischer,
finest s c u l p t o r o f his d a y ,
was c o m m i s s i o n e d - to design
a fitting m o n u m e n t
to guard her bones and h o n o u r t h e m ,
a n d t o see h e r s o u l
safely p l a c e d a m o n g t h e saints -
Mozart, to write a r e q u i e m .

Till n o w v o n W a l s e g g was c o n t e n t
t o r e - e m b r o i d e r a n y trifling c l o t h
his m o n i e s c o u l d s o easily p r o c u r e ;
b u t s o o n , a Mozart w o u l d p r e s e n t
a great and glittering r o b e
to w r a p in definite r e m e m b r a n c e h e r e
his d e a d w i f e ' s s o u l ;
a n d s o a t last t h e C o u n t h a d f o u n d
a w o r k t o m a t c h his m a n i a
a n d w e n t o n t o c l a i m (his alibi a s m i l e )
the m a g n i f i c e n t pastiche
as his last a n d g r e a t e s t t r i b u t e to his w i f e
a n d t o o k t h e p l a u d i t s a s his d u e
and b o w e d into the candelabra's glow.
But the snickering musicians k n e w .
T h e s n i c k e r i n g m u s i c i a n s always k n o w .
Oh the wardrobes we have gone through
t o dress o u r n a k e d m i n d s !
W h a t g o o d s w e ' v e c h e a p e n e d a n d w h a t suits
w e ' v e tried to cover up o u r tattered clothes,
to patch up e v e r y threadbare place
t h r o u g h w h i c h sharp w i n d continually b l o w s
f r o m t h e c o l d halls o f s p a c e .
As Aristotle crippled logic
for t w o t h o u s a n d y e a r s
a n d P l a t o a n d his m i n i o n s
c l u t t e r e d u p ( h e sky

!43
with their h u m m i n g spheres
the convolvuli
of things already d o n e
k e e p u s trapped, like any m o o n
b o u n d t o its s u n l i k e a t e t h e r e d g o a t
w h o s e grass m u s t finally r u n o u t ;
a n d t h o u g h n o t a t all a t ease
i n this t r e a d m i l l h e a v e n ,
as we argue from the given to the given
w e see a s w e s p i n past
o t h e r s y s t e m s , o t h e r stars
t h a t w e c a n n e v e r visit;
and though taught there's nothing n e w
underneath the sun,
t h a t t h e r e ' s a l i m i t t o t h e roses
w e can b r e e d a n d cull,
w e are n o t a t all a t ease
w i t h the insistent n o t i o n
o f s o m e t h i n g n e w u n d e r n e a t h t h e skull.

I, I think, have n o t s u c c u m b e d
( n o t all t h e t i m e , a t a n y rate)
to von Walsegg's and my fellow-poet's
m o r e c u n n i n g a n d m o r e artless w a y s
but if others' w o r k had so bedazed their minds,
s o m a d e t h e b a s e o f all t h e y w r o t e -
h o w m u c h am I bedazed?
H o w m u c h m i n e is what I write?
Does the superimposition of a p o e m
naturalise a n o t h e r ' s t h o u g h t
o r b e n d his stray r e f l e c t i o n s
to the p o e t ' s will
as some composers build
partitas o n t h e s q u e a k t h a t ' s m a d e
as h a n d s slide up guitars?
It is like p o u r i n g m i l k i n t o a s t r e a m
h i g h up a hill:
t h o u g h d o w n i t c o m e s s o m e h u n d r e d feet
(effervescent o v e r rocks

! I l
or lulled to tarns
b e h i n d s o m e e l b o w o f grassed turf,
falls, t u m b l e s , r u n o r s l o w s a s s m o o t h
as a d a r k h o n e y o o z e )
and m a y b e called
a r i v u l e t , a r u n n e l or a rill,
it still c o m e s o u t a s t r e a m
that s o m e o n e p o u r e d some milk into
h i g h up a hill.

So, repeatedly seduced and repeatedly a n n o y e d

at b e i n g s e d u c e d and led
by the odder machinations of the heart,
I try to m o v e outside the h u m a n r o t e
b u t find m y s e l f i n s t e a d
in landscapes w h e r e the plants,
t h e beasts, are strictly c a t a l o g u e d ;
w h e r e frightening hybrids melt into the dark
a n d w h e r e l a n g u a g e t h a t lacks e c h o e s
strikes d i s c o r d s i n t h e h e a d .
So, fearing a descent
to syntax that ignores
the grammar of our kind,
I try to h e w o u t parables
f r o m t h e b r o k e n t o r s o s t h a t I find.

But I am not contented in my mind.

•r.
 SNEACHTA GEALAÍ 77

M é féin faoin a e r san o i c h e ,

ag speachadh seoda sneachta i bpáirc,
gach teach reoite, gach nead préacháin
m a r g h e a l a c h d h u b h a g s n á m h l e hais n a f i o r
M é féin a g d a m h s a faoin n g e a l a c h ,
s e a n r i n c e g a n c h e o l leis a c h c e o l cuisle:
i s m é féin g o h u a i g n e a c h - a n s e a n u a i g n e a s .

T h a r imeall na spéire ti céasadh is goin

i s a n bás g o f o n ó i d e a c h
a l á m h a ina p h ó c a
ag feadaíl sa tsráid;
m é féin s a s n e a c h t a g e a l a i
ag m o l a d h n e a d préacháin -
an file go s o t a l a c h , f o c l a c h , slán.

!46
 MOONSNOW 77

Myself outside at night,

k i c k i n g s n o w - j e w e l s in a field,
each house frozen, each rook's nest
a b l a c k m o o n s w i m m i n g b y t h e real m o o n .
Myself dancing under the m o o n ,
an old dance w i t h no music
but pulse-music:
and myself lonely - the ancient loneliness.

O v e r the border, torture and w o u n d s

and death sneers
hands in pockets
whistles at street corners:
and myself in the m o o n s n o w
praising a r o o k ' s nest -
t h e p o e t , a r r o g a n t , v e r b o s e , safe.

translated by the author

 E A M O N G R E N N A N

B o r n D u b l i n , 1941. Educated at University College D u b l i n and Harvanl

University. Lectures in English at Vassar College, N e w Y o r k State.
Spends part of each year in Ireland.

G r e n n a n ' s years in the U n i t e d States are reflected in the intonations .in-1

at times in the settings of his p o e m s . He writes in a flexible, discursive
idiom w h i c h allows scope alike for meditation and for a sensuous
rendition of concrete particulars.

TOTEM

All S o u l s ' o v e r , t h e roast s e e d s e a t e n , I set

on a b a c k p o r c h post o u r sculpted p u m p k i n u n d e r the weathei
w a r m still for N o v e m b e r . N i g h t a n d d a y i t g a p e s
i n a t u s t h r o u g h t h e k i t c h e n w i n d o w , g o i n g soft
i n t h e h e a d . S l e e p w a l k e r - s l o w , a b l a c k rash o f ants
h a r r o w s this h o l l o w e d g l o b e , m u n c h i n g t h e pale p e a c h
flesh, s u c k i n g its s e a s o n e d last j u i c e s d r y . In a
w e e k , w h e n t h e ants a n d h u m m i n g flies are d o n e , o n l y
a h a r d r e m o r s e l e s s l i g h t drills a n d t e n a n t s it
t h r o u g h and through. W i t h i n , it turns mould-black
i n p a t c h e s , stays days l i k e this w h i l e t h e w e a t h e r
t a k e s i t i n its shifty a r m s : w i d e e y e - s p a c e s s h i n e ,
t h e d i s a p p r o v i n g m o u t h holds firm. A n o t h e r w e e k ,
a sad l e a p f o r w a r d : s u n k t o o n e side s o a n e y e - s o c k e t ' s
a l m o s t b l o c k e d , i t b e c o m e s a m o n s t e r o f its f o r m e r
self. H u m a n , i t w o u l d h a v e r o t t e d b e y o n d u n h a p p i n e s s a n d
h o r r o r t o s o m e u n s p e a k a b l e s u b j e c t state - its n o s e
no m o r e than a vertical h o l e , t h e thin bridge of a m b e r
b e t w e e n nose and m o u t h i n ruins. T h e o t h e r socket o p e n .
w i d e r t h a n e v e r : disbelief. It's all d o w n h i l l
f r o m h e r e : k n u c k l e s o f s u n , p e r e m p t o r y s t e a d y fingers
o f frost, strain all d a y a n d n i g h t a t it, c r a c k i n g
t h e r i n d , k n e a d i n g t h e k n o t t e d fibres free. The c r o w n
w i t h its t o p - k n o t m o c k e r y o f stalk caves in; the- skull

• 48
b u c k l e s ; t h e w h o l e h e a d d r i p s t a l l o w y tears: t h e e n d
is in sight. In a d a y or t w o it t o p p l e s on itself
like r u i n e d t h a t c h , p u s - w h i t e d r o o l s p i d e r i n g
f r o m t h e c o r n e r o f t h e m o u t h a n d w o r m i n g its w a y
d o w n t h e b o d y - p o s t . All d i g n i t y t o t h e w i n d s , i t b o w s its
b o g e y m a n face o f d r e a d t o t h e i n e v i t a b l e . A n d n o w , N o v e m b
almost o u t , it is in the bright unseasonable sunshine
a s i m m e r o f p u l p , a s l o w b a k e , a m b e r shell s p e c k l e d
c h a l k - g r e y w i t h l i c h e n . L i g h t strikes a n d strikes
its b u r s t surfaces: it sags, stays at t h e e n d of its
b r i e f t e t h e r - a h e l m e t o f d a r k circles, d e a t h caul. H e r e
i s t h e last u m b i l i c a l gasp, e v e r y b o d y ' s n i g h t m a r e p a r e n t ,
t h e pitiless s y s t e m r u b b i n g o u r n o s e s i n it. B u t
p i t y p o o r l a n t e r n - h e a d w i t h his lights o u t , g l o b
by greasy glob g o i n g back w h e r e he c a m e from. As each
s e e d - s h a p e d d r o p falls free, i t c a t c h e s a n d c l u t c h e s
for o n e split s e c o n d t h e l i g h t . W h e n t h e p u m p k i n
lapses t o o u r c o m m o n g r o u n d a t last - w h e r e a w h i t e
s w a d d l e o f s n o w w i l l fold i t i n n o t i m e f r o m sight -
I t r y t o t a k e i n t h e e m p t y s p a c e it's left
on t o p of t h e w o o d e n post: it is that e m p t y space.

FOUR DEER

F o u r d e e r lift u p t h e i r l o v e l y h e a d s t o m e
i n t h e d u s k o f t h e g o l f c o u r s e I p l o d across
t o w a r d s h o m e . T h e y ' r e b r o w s i n g t h e w e t grass
t h e s n o w has left a n d , s t a t u e d , stare a t m e
i n d e e p s i l e n c e a n d I see w h a t e v e r l i g h t t h e r e i s
g a t h e r t o glossy p o o l s i n t h e i r e i g h t m i l d ,
barely curious b u t w a r y eyes. W h e n o n e at a t i m e
( h e y b e n d again t o f e e d , I c a n h e a r t h e crisp
m o i s t c r u n c h o f t h e s u r v i v i n g grass
b e t w e e n t h e i r t e e t h , i m a g i n e t h e s l o w lick o f a t o n g u e
o v e r w h i c k e r i n g lips. T h e y ' v e c o m e f r o m t h e u n l i t
w i n t e r c o r n e r s o t t h e i r Iright t o f i n d
i l i r s h s e a s o n , this early gift, a n d s t a n d
almost e a s y a t t h e e d g e o l w h i t e s n o w islands a n d
l a p the grey green s w e e t depleted grass A b o u t them

149
h a n g s a n air o f s u c h d o m e s t i c s e n s e , t h e c o m f o r t a b l e
h u s h o f folk a t h o m e w i t h o n e a n o t h e r , a f a m i l i a r
s o m e t h i n g I sense in spite of t h e great gulf of strangeness
w e m u s t l o o k o v e r a t each o t h e r . Tails flicker
w h i t e i n t h i c k e n i n g d u s k a n d I feel t h e i r r e l i e f a t
t h e t o u c h o f c o l d s n o w u n d e r f o o t w h i l e t h e i r faces
n u z z l e grass, as if, l i k e b i r d s , t h e y h a d c r o s s e d
unspeakable vacant wastes w i t h n o t h i n g b u t h u n g e r
shaping their brains a n d d r i v i n g t h e m from leaf to
d r y leaf, s o u r strips o f b a r k , u n d e r a t h u n d e r o f g u n s
and i n t o t h e cold c o m f o r t of early dark. I've seen
their straight despairing lines c l o v e n in snowfields
u n d e r s t o r m , a n I n d i a n file o f f a m i s h e d n a t i v e s , p o o r
u n p r a y e d - f o r w a n d e r e r s t h r o u g h b l i n d i n g chill, seasoned
castaways i n search o f h o m e ports, w h i c h t h e y ' v e f o u n d
a t last, h e r e o n w i n t e r ' s v e r g e b e t w e e n o u r h o u s e s a n d
t h e i r t r e e s . All o f a s u d d e n , I ' v e c o m e t o o c l o s e . M o v i n g
as o n e m i n d t h e y spring in silent w a v e s
o v e r t h e grass, t h e n c r a c k s n o w w i t h s h a r p h a r d
snaps, lightfooting it i n t o t h e sanctuary of a p i n e g r o v e
w h e r e they stand l o o k i n g back at m e , a deer-shaped
f a m i l y o f s h a d o w s against t h e d a r k e r a r c h o f t r e e s a n d
t h i s r u s t i n g d u s k . W h e n s i l e n c e settles o v e r u s a g a i n
a n d t h e y b o w d o w n t o b r o w s e , t h e s o u n d o f grass b e i n g
l i p p e d , b i t t e n , m e e t s m e across t h e space b e t w e e n us. Close
e n o u g h for c o m f o r t , t h e y s e e w e k e e p , i n s t i n c t i v e l y , o u r
d i s t a n c e , s h a r i n g this air w h e r e a f e w last s h a r d s o f
d a y l i g h t still g l i t t e r i n little m e l t p o o l s o r s p r e a d a s k i n
o f b r i g h t n e s s o n t h e ice, t h e ice stiffening t o w a r d s m i d n i g h t
u n d e r t h e c l e a n m a g n e s i u m b u r n o f a first star.

BREAKING POINTS
for Joe Butwin

They all want to break at some point,

if you can only find it, he says, h o i s t i n g
the w e d g e h e a d e d heavy axe and c o m i n g d o w n with it
in o n e swift g l i t t e r i n g a r c : a single chunk,
t h e n t h e g l e a m o f t w o hall m o o n s o l m a p l e
rolling over in the driveway. He finds
his p r o p e r r h y t h m , m y s t r o n g f r i e n d f r o m t h e w e s t ,
s t a n d i n g e a c h half s t r a i g h t u p ,
t h e n levelling swinging striking
dead centre: t w o quarters
fall a p a r t f r o m o n e a n o t h e r
a n d lie, o f f - w h i t e flesh s h i n i n g ,
on the cracked tarmac. I stand back
and watch him bend and bring to the chopping-place
a solid s a w n - o f f w h e e l o f t h e m a p l e b o u g h
t h e u n e x p e c t e d early s n o w b r o u g h t d o w n
in a c l a m o r o u s r u s h of s t r i c k e n leafage, a g r e a t w e i g h t
he walks gingerly u n d e r
a n d g e n t l y sets d o w n . W h e n h e tests i t w i t h his e y e

I r e m e m b e r a b u i l d e r of d r y s t o n e walls
saying the same thing a b o u t rocks and big stones,
t u r n i n g o n e o v e r a n d o v e r , h u n t i n g its l i n e
of least r e s i s t a n c e , t h e n o f f e r i n g it a little
d u l l tap w i t h his m a l l e t : t h e s t o n e , a s i f h e ' d
slipped the k n o t h o l d i n g it together, o p e n e d
- c l o n e d - a n d s h o w e d its b r i g h t
i n n e r life t o t h e w o r l d . J o e g o e s o n l o g g i n g
for a f u r i o u s h o u r , l a y i n g a r o u n d h i m
t h e split q u a r t e r s , l i t t e r i n g t h e t a r - b l a c k d r i v e w a y
w i t h t h e i r m a t t e vanilla g l i t t e r . S e e i n g h i m
lean on t h e axe-shaft
for a m i n u t e ' s h e a d b e n t s i l e n c e
i n t h e t h i c k o f his h a n d i w o r k ,

I r e m e m b e r standing in silence at the c e n t r e

o f t h e l i v i n g - r o o m I w a s l e a v i n g for t h e last t i m e
after t e n years o f m a r r i a g e , t h e p o l i s h e d p i n e f l o o r
s c a t t e r e d w i t h t h e bits a n d p i e c e s
I was taking w i t h m e ,
( I K - List battle still s i n g i n g
in my head, the crossed limbs of the children
sofa s p r a w l e d in s l e e p . A n d as s o o n as he finishes
a n d c o n u s in, steam
s p r o u t i n g from lus r e d w e t n e c k
a n d m a t t e d hair, d a i k m a p s o l s w e a t

.".I
s t a i n i n g his n a v y b l u e T - s h i r t , I w a n t t o say
a s h e d r a i n s his s e c o n d glass o f l e m o n a d e

t h a t this is t h e w a y it is
in the world we make and break
for o u r s e l v e s : first t h e l o n g g r e e n g r o w i n g , t h e n
the storm, the heavy axe, those shining remnants
t h a t ' l l s e a s o n for a y e a r
b e f o r e t h e fire gets t h e m ; this i s t h e w a y
i t is, this v i o l e n t c o n c e n t r a t e d a c t i o n
asserting ourselves t o ourselves, the w a y w e stand
a n d flail o u r w a y t o f r e e d o m o f a s o r t ,
a n d after t h e h e a t a n d b l i s t e r i n g d e e d o f i t
h o w t h e h e a r t b e a t s i n its b i r d c a g e o f b o n e
and you're alone
w i t h y o u r o w n s t a g g e r e d , sufficient b o d y , its
toll t a k e n , o n t h e n e r v o u s v e r g e
o f e x a l t a t i o n . B u t I say n o t h i n g , p o u r m o r e
l e m o n a d e , o p e n a b e e r , listen t o t h e tale h e tells

of breakage back h o m e - the rending-place

we reach w h e n the labouring heart
fails us a n d we say, What
now? What else? Wliat? In t h e d u s k
a s s e m b l i n g against t h e w i n d o w ,
I c a n see t h e b i g g o u g e d m a p l e
r a d i a n t w h e r e t h e b o u g h s t o r m e d off,
a n d t h e split l o g s
scattered and bright over the driveway - in w h a t
f r o m this B a b y l o n i a n d i s t a n c e l o o k s l i k e
a p a t t e r n of solid purposes or the e n d of j o y .
 D E R E K M A H O N

Horn Belfast, 1941. Educated at the Royal Belfast Academical Institution

and Trinity College Dublin. F r o m 1970 to 1985 he w o r k e d in L o n d o n
as a journalist (including stints as features editor of Vogue and literary
editor of the New Statesman) and scriptwriter. After t w o years in Kinsale,
( 'ounty C o r k , he m o v e d in 1988 to Dublin. N o w lives in N e w Y o r k as
a freelance writer and lecturer. A distinguished translator from the
French, he has published versions of Moliére, de Nerval and Philippe
Jaccottet in b o o k form. M a h o n has edited Tlie Sphere Book of Modern
Irish Poetry (1972) and (with Peter Fallon) The Penguin Book of
Contemporary Irish Poetry (1990).

Mahon's stylish and even sprightly melancholy has r e m i n d e d critics of

Louis M a c N e i c e , as has his liking for formal strategies w h i c h at o n c e
endorse and subvert classicism. His sensibility is m o r e purely speculative
than the earlier poet's, h o w e v e r , and his irony m o r e desolating. T h e
apocalyptic perspectives o f ' L i v e s ' and 'An Image from Beckett' derive
from late-twentieth-century conditions b e y o n d t h e reach of M a c N e i c e ' s
11 in nanism. T h o u g h M a h o n recoils from c o m m i t m e n t , the northern crisis
i'. deeply implicated in his mature poetry. T h e oblique commentaries of
"The S n o w Party' and 'A Disused Shed in C o . W e x f o r d ' lend a
III.U rocosmic frame of reference and a near metaphysical significance to
l u s h troubles past and present. T h e latter p o e m gives voice by proxy to
those relicts and victims to w h o m history, pace A u d e n , can only say
Alas'. 'Courtyards in Delft' draws connections b e t w e e n British and
I )utch imperialism, and b e t w e e n Ulster and South Africa, while
'Tractatus' typifies the apparent ease with w h i c h M a h o n can
shade from w h i m s y into vision.

A DYING ART

' T h a t d a y w o u l d skin a fairy -

A d y i n g a r t , ' s h e said.
N o t m a n y left o f t h e o l d t r a d e .
R e d u n d a n t a n d r e m o t e , t h e y age
G r a c e f u l l y in d a r k c o r n e r s
With lamp-lighters, sail-makers
And native M a n x speakers
 A n d the bone-handled knives with w h i c h
T h e y earned their bread? My granny grinds
H e r p l u g t o b a c c o w i t h o n e t o this d a y .

ECCLESIASTES

G o d , y o u c o u l d g r o w t o l o v e it, G o d - f e a r i n g , G o d -
c h o s e n p u r i s t little p u r i t a n t h a t ,
for all y o u r w i l e s a n d s m i l e s , y o u are ( t h e
d a n k c h u r c h e s , t h e e m p t y streets,
t h e shipyard silence, t h e t i e d - u p swings) a n d
shelter y o u r cold heart from the heat
of the world, from woman-inquisition, from the
bright eyes o f children. Yes y o u c o u l d
w e a r b l a c k , d r i n k w a t e r , n o u r i s h a fierce zeal
w i t h locusts and w i l d h o n e y , and n o t
feel called u p o n t o u n d e r s t a n d a n d f o r g i v e
b u t only to speak w i t h a bleak
afflatus, a n d l o v e t h e J a n u a r y rains w h e n t h e y
d a r k e n t h e d a r k d o o r s a n d sink h a r d
i n t o t h e A n t r i m hills, t h e b o g m e a d o w s , t h e h e a p e d
g r a v e s o f y o u r fathers. B u r y t h a t r e d
b a n d a n a , stick a n d g u i t a r ; this i s y o u r
c o u n t r y , close o n e eye a n d b e king.
Y o u r people await you, their heavy washing
flaps for y o u in t h e h o u s i n g estates -
a c r e d u l o u s p e o p l e . G o d , y o u c o u l d d o it, G o d
h e l p y o u , s t a n d o n a c o r n e r stiff
w i t h rhetoric, promising n o t h i n g u n d e r the sun.

AN IMAGE FROM BECKETT

for Doreeri

In that instant
T h e r e w a s a sea, far oft.
As b r i g h t as l e t t u c e ,
A n o r t h e r n landscape
And a huddle
Of houses along the shore.

Also, I think, a w h i t e
F l i c k e r o f gulls
A n d washing h u n g to dry -

T h e poignancy of those
Back yards - a n d the gravedigger
P u t t i n g aside his f o r c e p s .

T h e n the hard boards

A n d darkness o n c e again.
But in that instant

I was struck by the

Sweetness a n d light,
T h e sweetness and light,

I m a g i n i n g w h a t grave
C i t i e s , w h a t lasting m o n u m e n t s ,
Given the time.

T h e y will h a v e b u r i e d
My great-grandchildren, and theirs,
Beside m e b y n o w

W i t h a subliminal batsqueak
O f reflex l a m e n t a t i o n .
O u r knuckle bones

Litter the rich earth

Changing, second by second,
T o civilizations.

I t w a s g o o d w h i l e i t lasted,
A n d if it o n l y lasted
T h e Biblical span
R e q u i r e d t o d r o p six feet
T h r o u g h a glitter of w i n t r y light,
There is N o - O n e to blame.

Still, I am h a u n t e d
By that landscape,
T h e soft r u s h o f its w i n d s ,

T h e u p r i g h t n e s s o f its
Utilities and schoolchildren -
T o w h o m i n m y will,

T h i s , I h a v e left m y w i l l .
I hope they have time,
A n d l i g h t e n o u g h , t o r e a d it.

LIVES
for Seamus Heaney

First t i m e o u t
I w a s a t o r e of g o l d
A n d w e p t tears o f t h e s u n .

T h a t w a s fun
But they buried me
I n t h e e a r t h t w o t h o u s a n d years

Till a l a b o u r e r
T u r n e d me up with a pick
In eighteen fifty-four

A n d sold m e
F o r tea a n d sugar
In Newmarket-on-Fergus.

O n c e I was an oar
B u t s t u c k i n t h e shore-
To m a r k the place ol a grave

.'Si.
W h e n t h e lost s h i p
Sailed a w a y . I t h o u g h t
O f Ithaca, b u t s o o n decayed.

T h e time that I liked

Best was w h e n
I w a s a b u m p of clay

In a N a v a h o r u g ,
Put there to mitigate
T h e too god-like

Perfection of that
M e r e l y h u m a n artifact.
I s e r v e d my m a k e r w e l l -

H e lived long
T o b e struck d o w n i n
T u c s o n by an electric shock

T h e n i g h t t h e lights
W e n t out in Europe
N e v e r to shine again.

S o m a n y lives,
So m a n y things to r e m e m b e r
I w a s a s t o n e in T i b e t ,

A t o n g u e of b a r k
A t t h e h e a r t o f Africa
G r o w i n g darker and darker .

It all s e e m s
A little u n r e a l n o w ,
N o w that I am

An anthropologist
With my own
C r e d i t card, d i c t a p h o n e .
Army-surplus boots
A n d a whole boatload
Of photographic equipment.

I k n o w too much
To be anything any more;
A n d if in the distant

Future someone
T h i n k s h e has o n c e b e e n m e
As I am t o d a y ,

Let h i m revise
His insolent ontology
Or teach himself to pray.

T H E S N O W PARTY
for Louis Asekoff

Bashó, coming
T o t h e city o f N a g o y a ,
Is a s k e d to a s n o w p a r t y .

T h e r e is a t i n k l i n g of c h i n a
A n d tea i n t o china;
T h e r e are i n t r o d u c t i o n s .

T h e n everyone
Crowds to the w i n d o w
T o w a t c h t h e falling s n o w .

S n o w i s falling o n N a g o y a
A n d farther south
O n t h e tiles o f Kyoto.

Eastward, b e y o n d Irago,
It is falling

L i k e leaves o n t h e c o l d sea.

.».SH
 E l s e w h e r e t h e y are b u r n i n g
Witches and heretics
In the boiling squares,

T h o u s a n d s h a v e d i e d since d a w n
In the service
O f barbarous kings;

B u t t h e r e is silence
In the houses of Nagoya
A n d t h e hills o f Ise.

A REFUSAL TO M O U R N

He lived in a small f a r m - h o u s e
At t h e edge of a n e w estate.
T h e trim gardens crept
T o his d o o r , a n d c a r e n g i n e s
W o k e h i m before d a w n
O n dark w i n t e r m o r n i n g s .

All d a y t h e r e w a s s i l e n c e
In the bright house. T h e clock
T i c k e d o n t h e k i t c h e n shelf,
Cinders m o v e d in the grate,
A n d a w a r m briar gurgled
W h e n t h e o l d m a n t a l k e d t o himself;

But the door-bell seldom rang

After the m i l k m a n w e n t ,
A n d if a s h i r t - h a n g e r
Knocked in an open wardrobe
T h a t was a strange e v e n t
T o b e p o n d e r e d o n for h o u r s

While the w i n d thrashed about

In the back g a r d e n , raking
T h e rool o l the h e n - h o u s e .
A n d swept ( louds and gulls
Eastwards o v e r the lough
W i t h its flap o f t i n y sails.

O n c e a w e e k h e w o u l d visit
An old shipyard crony,
Inching d o w n to the road
A n d the blue country bus
T o sit a n d w a t c h s u n - d a p p l e d
Branches whacking the w i n d o w s

While the long evening shed

W e a k l i g h t i n his e m p t y h o u s e ,
O n t h e p h o t o g r a p h s o f his d e a d
W i f e a n d t h e i r six c h i l d r e n
A n d the Missions to Seamen angel
I n flight a b o v e t h e b e d .

T m n o t l o n g for this w o r l d , '

Said h e o n o u r last e v e n i n g ,
'I'll n o t last t h e w i n t e r , '
A n d grinned, straining to hear
W h a t e v e r reply I made;
A n d died the following year.

I n t i m e t h e a s t r i n g e n t rain
Of those parts will clean
T h e w o r d s f r o m his g r a v e s t o n e
In the crowded cemetery
T h a t o v e r l o o k s t h e sea
A n d his n a m e b e m u d o n c e a g a i n

A n d his b o i l e r s lie like t o m b s

I n t h e m u d o f t h e sea b e d
T i l l t h e n e x t i c e age c o m e s
A n d the earth he inherited
Is g o n e like N e a n d e r t h a l M a n
A n d no records remain.

B u t the secret b r e d in the b o n e

O n the d a w n strand survives
In o t h e r times and lives.
 P e r s i s t i n g for t h e u n b o r n
L i k e a c l a w - p r i n t in c o n c r e t e
A f t e r t h e b i r d has f l o w n .

A DISUSED SHED IN C O . W E X F O R D
Let them not forget us, the weak souls among the asphodels.
Sefcris, Mythistorema, tr. Keclcy and Shcrrard

forJ.G. Farrell

E v e n n o w t h e r e are places w h e r e a t h o u g h t m i g h t g r o w
Peruvian mines, w o r k e d out and abandoned
To a slow clock of condensation,
A n e c h o t r a p p e d for e v e r , a n d a flutter
O f w i l d - f l o w e r s i n t h e lift-shaft,
Indian c o m p o u n d s w h e r e the w i n d dances
A n d a d o o r bangs with diminished confidence,
L i m e crevices b e h i n d rippling rain-barrels,
D o g c o r n e r s for b o n e b u r i a l s ;
A n d in a disused shed in C o . W e x f o r d ,

D e e p in the grounds of a b u r n t - o u t hotel,

A m o n g the bathtubs and the washbasins
A t h o u s a n d m u s h r o o m s c r o w d to a k e y h o l e .
T h i s i s t h e o n e star i n t h e i r f i r m a m e n t
Or frames a star w i t h i n a star.
W h a t s h o u l d t h e y d o t h e r e b u t desire?
S o m a n y days b e y o n d t h e r h o d o d e n d r o n s
W i t h t h e w o r l d w a l t z i n g i n its b o w l o f c l o u d ,
T h e y have learnt p a t i e n c e and silence
Listening to the rooks querulous in the high w o o d .

T h e y h a v e b e e n w a i t i n g for u s i n a f o e t o r
O f v e g e t a b l e s w e a t s i n c e civil w a r days,
Since the gravel-crunching, interminable departure
Ol the expropriated mycologist.
I l e n e v e r c a m e b a c k , a n d light s i n c e t h e n
Is i k e y h o l e r u s t i n g g e n t l y a l t e r rain.
S p i d e r s h a v e ' - p u n , Mies d u s t e d t o m i l d e w
A n d o n c e a day, perhaps, t h e y have heard s o m e t h i n g -
A trickle of m a s o n r y , a s h o u t from the b l u e
Or a lorry changing gear at the e n d of the lane.

T h e r e h a v e b e e n d e a t h s , t h e p a l e flesh f l a k i n g
I n t o t h e e a r t h t h a t n o u r i s h e d it;
A n d nightmares, born of these and the grim
D o m i n i o n o f stale air a n d r a n k m o i s t u r e .
T h o s e nearest the d o o r g r o w strong -
'Elbow room! Elbow room!'
T h e rest, d i m i n a t w i l i g h t o f c r u m b l i n g
Utensils and b r o k e n pitchers, groaning
For their deliverance, have been so long
E x p e c t a n t t h a t t h e r e i s left o n l y t h e p o s t u r e .

A h a l f c e n t u r y , w i t h o u t v i s i t o r s , in t h e d a r k -
P o o r p r e p a r a t i o n for t h e c r a c k i n g l o c k
A n d creak of hinges. Magi, m o o n m e n ,
P o w d e r y prisoners of the old regime,
W e b - t h r o a t e d , s t a l k e d like triffids, r a c k e d b y d r o u g h t
A n d insomnia, only the ghost of a scream
A t the flash-bulb firing-squad w e w a k e t h e m w i t h
S h o w s t h e r e i s life y e t i n t h e i r feverish f o r m s .
G r o w n b e y o n d n a t u r e n o w , soft f o o d for w o r m s ,
T h e y lift frail h e a d s i n g r a v i t y a n d g o o d faith.

T h e y are b e g g i n g us, y o u see, in their wordless w a y ,

To do s o m e t h i n g , to speak on their behalf
O r a t least n o t t o close t h e d o o r a g a i n .
Lost p e o p l e o f T r e b l i n k a a n d P o m p e i i !
' S a v e u s , save u s , ' t h e y s e e m t o say,
'Let the god not abandon us
W h o h a v e c o m e s o far i n d a r k n e s s a n d i n p a i n .
W e t o o h a d o u r lives t o l i v e .
Y o u w i t h y o u r light m e t e r a n d relaxed itinerary,
Let n o t o u r naive labours have b e e n in vain!'
 COURTYARDS IN DELFT
Pieter de Hooch, 1659

for Gordon Woods

O b l i q u e l i g h t o n t h e t r i t e , o n b r i c k a n d tile -
Immaculate masonry, and e v e r y w h e r e that
W a t e r t a p , t h a t b r o o m a n d w o o d e n pail
T o k e e p i t so. H o u s e - p r o u d , t h e wives
O f artisans p u r s u e t h e i r thrifty lives
A m o n g scrubbed yards, m o d e s t b u t a d e q u a t e .
F o l i a g e i s sparse, a n d clings. N o b r e e z e
Ruffles t h e t r i m c o m p o s u r e o f t h o s e t r e e s .

No spinet-playing emblematic of
T h e harmonies and disharmonies of love;
N o l e w d f i s h , n o fruit, n o w i d e - e y e d b i r d
A b o u t to fly its c a g e w h i l e a v i r g i n
Listens t o h e r s e d u c e r , m a r s t h e c h a s t e
Perfection of the thing and the thing m a d e .
N o t h i n g is r a n d o m , n o t h i n g goes to waste.
W e miss t h e d i r t y d o g , t h e f i e r y g i n .

T h a t girl w i t h h e r b a c k t o u s w h o w a i t s
F o r h e r m a n t o c o m e h o m e for his tea
W i l l w a i t till t h e p a i n t d i s i n t e g r a t e s
A n d r u i n e d d i k e s a d m i t t h e e s u r i e n t sea;
Y e t this i s life t o o , a n d t h e c r a c k e d
( ) u t - h o u s e d o o r a verifiable fact
As vividly m n e m o n i c as the sunlit
Railings t h a t f r o n t t h e h o u s e s o p p o s i t e .

I l i v e d t h e r e as a b o y a n d k n o w t h e c o a l
( i l i t t e r i n g i n its s h e d , l a t e - a f t e r n o o n
I a m b e n c y i n f o r m i n g t h e deal table,
T h e ceiling cradled in a radiant spoon.
I must be lying l o w in a r o o m t h e r e ,
A s t r a n g e c h i l d w i t h a taste for v e r s e ,
While my h.ird-nosed c o m p a n i o n s dream of fire
A n d s w o i d u p o n p a n b e d veldt a n d fields o f r a i n - s w e p t g o r s e .
 RATHLIN

A l o n g t i m e s i n c e t h e last s c r e a m c u t s h o r t -
T h e n an unnatural silence; and t h e n
A natural silence, slowly b r o k e n
By the shearwater, by the sporadic
C o n v e r s a t i o n of crickets, the bleak
R e m i n d e r of a metaphysical wind.
A g e s o f t h i s , till t h e r e p o r t
Of an outboard m o t o r at the pier
Shatters the d r e a m - t i m e , a n d we land
A s i f w e w e r e t h e first v i s i t o r s h e r e .

T h e w h o l e island a s a n c t u a r y w h e r e a m a z e d
O n e i r i c species whistle a n d chatter,
E v a c u a t i n g rock-face a n d cliff-top.
C e r u l e a n distance, an o c e a n i c haze -
N o t h i n g but sea-smoke to the ice-cap
A n d the o d d s o m n o l e n t freighter.
B o m b s d o z e i n t h e h o u s i n g estates
B u t h e r e t h e y are t h r o u g h w i t h h i s t o r y -
Custodians of a lone light w h i c h repeats
O n e s i m p l e s t a t e m e n t t o t h e t u r b u l e n t sea.

A l o n g time since the unspeakable violence -

Since Somhairle B u i d h , powerless on the mainland,
H e a r d the screams of the Rathlin w o m e n
B o r n e t o h i m , s e c o n d s later, u p o n t h e w i n d .
O n l y t h e cry o f the shearwater
A n d the roar of the o u t b o a r d m o t o r
Disturb the singular peace. Spray-blind,
W e leave h e r e the infancy o f the race,
U n s u r e a m o n g t h e p i t c h i n g surfaces
W h e t h e r t h e f u t u r e lies b e f o r e u s o r b e h i n d .

e l
 TRACTATUS
for Aidan Higgins

' T h e w o r l d is e v e r y t h i n g that is t h e case'

F r o m the fly giving up in the coal-shed
T o the W i n g e d Victory o f Samothrace.
G i v e b l a m e , praise, t o t h e f u m b l i n g G o d
W h o h i d e s , shame-facedly, H i s a g e d face;
W h o s e l i g h t r e t i r e s b e h i n d its veil o f c l o u d .

T h e w o r l d , t h o u g h , i s also s o m u c h m o r e -
E v e r y t h i n g t h a t i s t h e case i m a g i n a t i v e l y .
T a c i t u s b e l i e v e d m a r i n e r s c o u l d hear
T h e s u n s i n k i n g i n t o t h e w e s t e r n sea;
A n d w h o w o u l d question that titanic roar,
T h e steam rising w h e r e v e r the edge may be

»63
 E I L E A N N I C H U I L L E A N A I N

B o r n 1942 in C o r k , daughter of C o r m a c Ó Cuilleanáin, professor ol

Irish at University College C o r k , and the novelist Eilis Dillon. Educatci
at U C C and Oxford. Lecturer in Medieval and Renaissance English at
Trinity College Dublin since 1966. A founder and c o - e d i t o r of Cyphers
she has edited Irish Women: Image and Achievement - Women in Irish
Culture from Earliest Times (1985).

Ní Chuilleanáin emerges in h e r best w o r k as a p o e t of powerful

intelligence w h o can sustain vivid, c o m p l e x metaphors over n u m b e r s i >
lines - a capacity some c o m m e n t a t o r s have related to her interest in the
poetry of the English Renaissance. A subtle, elaborate exploration of
the historical experience of w o m e n is developed in many of
her m o r e recent p o e m s .

T H E S E C O N D VOYAGE

O d y s s e u s r e s t e d o n his o a r a n d s a w
T h e ruffled f o r e h e a d s o f t h e w a v e s
C r o c o d i l i n g a n d m i n c i n g past: h e r a m m e d
T h e oar b e t w e e n their jaws and l o o k e d d o w n
I n t h e s i m m e r i n g sea w h e r e s c r i b b l e s o f w e e d d e f i n e d
U n c e r t a i n d e p t h , a n d t h e slim fishes p r o g r e s s e d
I n fatal f o r m a t i o n , a n d t h o u g h t
If t h e r e w a s a s i n g l e
Streak of d e c e n c y in these waves n o w , t h e y ' d be ridged
P o c k e d and dented with the battering they've had,
A n d w e c o u l d n a m e t h e m a s A d a m n a m e d t h e beasts,
Saluting a n e w o n e with dismay, or a notorious o n e
W i t h a d m i r a t i o n ; t h e y ' d n o t i c e u s passing
A n d rejoice at o u r shipwreck, b u t these
H a v e less c h a r a c t e r t h a n s h e e p a n d n e e d m o r e p a t i e n c e .

I k n o w w h a t I'll d o h e said;
I'll p a r k m y s h i p i n t h e c r o o k o f a l o n g p i e r
( A n d I'll t a k e y o u w i t h m e h e said t o t h e oar)
I'll face t h e rising g r o u n d a n d w a l k a w a y
F r o m tidal w a t e r s , u p r i v e r b e d s
W h e r e h e r o n s parcel o u t the miles of stream,
O v e r gaps i n t h e hills, t h r o u g h w a r m
S i l e n t valleys, a n d w h e n I m e e t a f a r m e r
Bold e n o u g h to look me in t h e eye
W i t h ' w h e r e are y o u off t o w i t h t h a t l o n g
W i n n o w i n g fan o v e r y o u r s h o u l d e r ? '
T h e r e I will s t a n d still
A n d I'll p l a n t y o u for a g a t e p o s t or a h i t c h i n g - p o s t
A n d l e a v e y o u as a t i d e m a r k . I c a n go b a c k
And organise my house then.
But the profound
U n f e n c e d valleys o f t h e o c e a n still h e l d h i m ;
He had only the oar to m a k e t h e m k e e p their distance;
T h e sea w a s still f r y i n g u n d e r t h e s h i p ' s s i d e .
I le considered the water-lilies, and t h o u g h t about fountains
Spraying as w i d e as willows in e m p t y squares,
The s u g a r s t i c k o f w a t e r c l a t t e r i n g i n t o t h e k e t t l e ,
T h e flat lakes b i s e c t i n g t h e r u s h e s . H e r e m e m b e r e d s p i d e r s a n d
frogs
I l o u s e k e e p i n g at the roadside in b r o w n trickles floored w i t h
mud,
I l o r s e t r o u g h s , t h e black canal, pale swans at dark:
I lis face g r e w d a m p w i t h t e a r s t h a t t a s t e d
I ike his o w n s w e a t o r t h e insults o f t h e sea.

DEATHS AND ENGINES

W e came d o w n above the houses

In a stiff c u r v e , a n d
A t t h e e d g e o f Paris a i r p o r t
Saw an e m p t y tunnel
- T h e back half of a plane, black
O n t h e s n o w , n o b o d y n e a r it,
T u b u l a r , b u r n t - o u t and frozen.

W h e n w e faced again
I he s n o w w h i t e r u n w a y s in t h e dark

267
 No sound came over
T h e l o u d s p e a k e r s , e x c e p t t h e sighs
O f the lonely pilot.

T h e cold of metal wings is contagious:

S o o n y o u will n e e d w i n g s o f y o u r o w n ,
C o r n e r e d in the angle w h e r e
T i m e a n d life l i k e a k n i f e a n d f o r k
C r o s s , a n d t h e lifeline i n y o u r p a l m
Breaks, and the curve of an aeroplane's track
M e e t s the straight skyline.

T h e i m a g e s o f relief:
Hospital pyjamas, screens r o u n d a b e d
A m a n w i t h a b l o o d y face
Sitting up in b e d , conversing cheerfully
T h r o u g h c u t lips:
T h e s e will fail y o u s o m e t i m e .

Y o u will find y o u r s e l f a l o n e
Accelerating d o w n a blind
A l l e y , t o o late t o s t o p
A n d k n o w h o w l i g h t y o u r d e a t h is;
Y o u will b e s c a t t e r e d l i k e w r e c k a g e ,
T h e pieces e v e r y o n e a different shape
W i l l spin a n d l o d g e i n t h e h e a r t s
O f all w h o l o v e y o u .

THE INFORMANT

U n d e r n e a t h the photograph
O f t h e old w o m a n a t h e r k i t c h e n table
W i t h a w i n d o w b e y o n d (fuchsias, a h e n h o u s e , t h e sea)
A r e e n t e r e d : h e r n a m e a n d a g e , h e r late h u s b a n d ' s o c c u p a t i o n
(A gauger), her birthplace, not here
B u t in a n o t h e r parish, near the main road.
S h e i s s i t t i n g w i t h tea a t h e r e l b o w
A n d her o w n fairy-cakes, b a k e d that m o r n i n g
F o r t h e y o u n g m a n w h o listens n o w t o t h e t a p e
O f her voice changing, telling the story,
A n d hears himself asking,
Did you ever see it yourself?
O n c e , I s a w it.

Can you describe it? B u t t h e s o u n d

T a k e s off l i k e a j e t e n g i n e , t h e m a c h i n e
G o n e haywire, a tearing, an electric
T e m p e s t . T h e n a stitch of silence.
S o m e t h i n g has b e e n lost, t h e v o i c e r e s u m e s
Quietly now,
' T h e locks
F o r c e d u p w a r d , a shift of air
P u l l e d o v e r t h e h e a d . T h e face b e n t
A n d the eyes w i n c e d , like craning
To look in the core of a furnace.
T h e man unravelled
B a c k to a s n a g , a d a r k t h r e a d ' .

Then what happens?

T h e p e r s o n disappears.
F o r a t i m e h e stays c l o s e b y a n d s p e a k s
In a child's voice. He is n o t seen, and
Y o u m u s t l e a v e f o o d o u t for h i m , a n d b e careful
W h e r e y o u t h r o w w a t e r after y o u w a s h y o u r feet.

And then he is gone?

H e ' s g o n e , after a w h i l e .

You find this more strange than the yearly miracle

Of the loaf turning into a child?
W e l l , t h a t ' s n a t u r a l , s h e says,
I o f t e n b a k e d t h e b r e a d for t h a t myself.

T H E REAL T H I N G

T h e H o o k o f F.xits, m i r a c u l o u s l y c o p i e d
I l e r e in (Ins c o n v e n t by an a n g e l ' s h a n d ,
Stands o p e n on a lectern, g r o o v e d
I i k e t h e breast <>i i m a r t y r e d d e a c o n .
T h e b i s h o p has o r d e r e d t h e w i n d o w s b r i c k e d u p o n this side
F a c i n g t h e fields b e y o n d t h e c i t y .
Lit b y t h e g l o w f r o m t h e c l o i s t e r y a r d a t n o o n
O n P a l m S u n d a y , Sister C u s t o s
Exposes h e r major relic, the longest
K n o w n fragment of the Brazen Serpent.

T r u e stories w i n d a n d h a n g l i k e this
S h u d d e r i n g l o o p w r e a t h e d o n a lapis lazuli
F r a m e . S h e says, this i s t h e real t h i n g .
S h e veils i t a g a i n a n d l o c k s u p .
O n t h e shelves b e h i n d h e r t h e treasures are lined.
T h e e p i s c o p a l seal r e p e a t s e v e r y coil,
S t a m p e d o n all c l o s u r e s o f e a c h r e l i q u a r y
W h e r e t h e labels r e a d : Bones
Of Different Saints. Unknown.

H e r h i s t o r y is a b l a n k s h e e t ,
H e r v o w s a f o l d e d p a p e r l o c k e d like a w e l l .
T h e torn end of the serpent
T i l t s t h e lace e d g e o f t h e v e i l .
T h e real t h i n g , t h e o n e free f o o t k i c k i n g
U n d e r the w h i t e sheet of history.

SAINT MARGARET OF C O R T O N A
patroness of the Lock Hospital, Townsend Street, Dublin

She had become, t h e p r e a c h e r h o l l o w s his v o i c e ,

A n a m e not to be spoken, the answer
T o the w i t t y m a n ' s loose r i d d l e , what's she
T h a t ' s n e i t h e r m a i d e n , w i d o w n o r wife?

A p a u s e o p e n s its j a w s
In the annual panegyric,
T h e w o r d whore p r o w l i n g silent
U p a n d d o w n t h e l o n g aisle.

U n d e r the flourishing canopy

W h e r e t r i o s o f a n g e l s m i m e t h e last t r o m b o n e ,

.»/<»
B e h i n d t h e silver c o m m a s o f t h e s h r i n e ,
I n t h e m i n e o f t h e altar h e r t e e t h listen a n d s m i l e .

S h e is still h e r e , s h e refuses
To be consumed. T h e weight of her bones
Burns d o w n through the mountain.
H e r d e a t h d i d n o t m a k e h e r like t h i s ;

H e r eyes w e r e h o l l o w e d
By the bloody scene: the w o u n d s
In t h e b o d y of h e r child's father
T u m b l e d in a ditch. T h e d o o r was locked,
T h e n a m e s f l e w a n d multiplied; she t u r n e d
H e r back but the names clustered and h u n g
O u t of her shoulderbones
Like children s w i n g i n g from a father's a r m ,
T h e i r t u c k e d - u p feet s k i m m i n g o v e r t h e g r o u n d .

.•/I
 E A V A N B O L A N D

Born D u b l i n , 1944. B r o u g h t up in L o n d o n , w h e r e her father was Irish

ambassador, and N e w York, w h e r e he represented Ireland at the United
Nations. Educated at Trinity College Dublin. T a u g h t English at Trinity
from 1966 to 1968. Has w o r k e d as a freelance lecturer in Ireland and the
U n i t e d States. A founder of A d e n H o u s e , a p i o n e e r i n g w o m e n ' s press,
she has c o m e to be regarded by a y o u n g e r and vocal generation of
Irish w o m e n writers as a crucial exemplar. Boland is a prolific literary
journalist and poetry reviewer, mainly for the Irish Times and
PN Review (Manchester). Object Lessons: The Life of the Woman
and the Poet in Our time appeared in 1995.

Boland's earlier w o r k is alert to crosscurrents in international poetry,

w h i c h it accommodates s o m e w h a t dutifully to an Irish context. T h e
situation of w o m e n emerges as a d o m i n a n t c o n c e r n in In Her Own Image
(1975) and Night Feed (1982). An increasingly politicised approach to
this t h e m e is accompanied from the mid-1980s by a g r o w i n g complexii\
of lyric form and a striking n e w authority in Boland's handling of the
poetic line. C o m b i n i n g autobiography and history with a celebration ol
the m o r e creative aspects of domesticity, the mature poetry meditates on
the consolations and deceits of art. 'Anna Liffey' explicitly rehearses
Boland's feminist aesthetic: the p o e m challenges the male-centred
priorities of t w o key modernist texts by reappropriating the figure ol
Anna Liffey/Anna Livia from Finnegans Wake and by adapting
to its o w n purposes b o t h the idiom and the river m o t i f of
William Carlos Williams's Paterson.

LISTEN. THIS IS T H E NOISE OF M Y T H

This is the story of a m a n and w o m a n

u n d e r a w i l l o w and beside a w e i r
n e a r a river in a w o o d e d c l e a r i n g .
T h e y are f u g i t i v e s . I n t i m a t e s o f m y t h .

Fictions of my purpose. I suppose

I s h o u l d n ' t say t h a t y e t or at least
b e f o r e I b r e a k t h e i r h e a r t s o r save t h e i r lives
I o u g h t to tell t h e i r s t o r y a n d I w i l l .

W h e n t h e y w e n t first i t w a s w i n t e r ; c o l d ,
c o l d t h r o u g h t h e M i d l a n d s a n d a s far W e s t
as they could go. T h e y k n e w they had to go -
through Meath, Westmeath, Longford,

t h e i r lives u n r a v e l l i n g l i k e t h e h o u r s o f l i g h t -
and then there were lambs u n d e r the s n o w
and it was January, aconite and jasmine
and t h e hazel y e l l o w i n g and p u c e berries on t h e

T h e y c o u l d n o t eat w h e r e t h e y h a d c o o k e d ,
n o r sleep w h e r e t h e y had eaten
n o r a t d a w n rest w h e r e t h e y h a d slept.
T h e y s h u n n e d the densities

o f t r e e s w i t h o n e t r u n k a n d o f caves
with o n e dark and the dangerous e m b r a c e
o f islands w i t h a single l a n d i n g p l a c e .
A n d all t h e t i m e i t w a s c o l d , c o l d :

t h e fields still g a r d e n e d b y t h e i r i c e ,
the trees stitched w i t h s n o w overnight,
t h e d i t c h e s full; frost t o u g h e n i n g l i c h e n ,
d a r n i n g lace i n t o r o c k c r e v i c e s .

A n d then the w o o d s flooded and buds

blunted from the chestnut and the foxglove
p u t its b i g leaves o u t a n d c h a f f i n c h e s
c h i n k e d a n d f l i r t e d i n t h e b r a n c h e s o f t h e ash.

A n d h e r e w e are w h e r e w e s t a r t e d f r o m -
u n d e r a willow and beside a weir
n e a r a r i v e r in a w o o d e d c l e a r i n g .
T h e w o m a n a n d t h e m a n h a v e c o m e t o rest.

l o o k h o w light i s c o i n i n g t h r o u g h t h e ash.
T h e w e i r sluices k i n g f i s h e r b l u e s .

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T h e w o m a n and the w i l l o w tree lean forward, forward.
S o m e t h i n g is near; s o m e t h i n g is about to h a p p e n ;

something m o r e than Spring

a n d less t h a n h i s t o r y . W i l l w e see
h u n g e r s e a s e d after m o n t h s o f h i d i n g ?
Is t h e r e a t o u c h of h e a t in t h a t light?

I f t h e y stay h e r e s o o n i t w i l l b e s u m m e r ; t h i n g s
returning, sunlight fingering m i n n o w y deeps,
s e e d y g r e e n s , r e e d s , e l e c t i n g lights
and edges from the river. C o n s i d e r

l e g e n d , s e l f - d e c e p t i o n , sin, t h e s u m
o f h u m a n p u r p o s e a n d its e n d ; r e m e m b e r
h o w o u r poetry d e p e n d s o n distance,
aspect: gravity will b e n d starlight.

F o r g i v e m e i f I set t h e t r u t h t o r i g h t s .
B e a r w i t h m e i f I p u t a n e n d t o this:
she n e v e r t u r n e d t o h i m ; she n e v e r l e a n e d
under the sallow-willow over to him.

T h e y never made love; not there; not here;

not anywhere; there was no winter j o u r n e y ;
no aconite, no birdsong and no jasmine,
no woodland and no river and no weir.

Listen. T h i s is the noise of m y t h . It m a k e s

t h e s a m e s o u n d a s s h a d o w . C a n y o u h e a r it?
D a y l i g h t greys in t h e preceptories.
H e r head begins to shine

p i v o t i n g the planets of a harsh nativity.

T h e y were never mine. This is mine.
T h i s s e q u e n c e o f e v i c t e d possibilities.
D i s p l a c e d facts. T r i c k s o f l i g h t . R e f l e c t i o n s .

I n v e n t i o n . L e g e n d . M y t h . W h a t y o u will.
T h e shifts a n d f l u e n c i e s are i n f i n i t e .

274
 T h e m o v i n g parts are m a r v e l l o u s . C o n s i d e r
h o w the b e r e a v e m e n t s o f t h e definite

are easily lifted f r o m o u r h e r o i n e .

She m a y or she m a y not. She was or w a s n ' t
b y t h e w a t e r a t his side a s d a r k
waited above the Western countryside.

O c o n s o l a t i o n s of t h e craft.
H o w we put
the old poultices on the old sores,
the same mirrors to the old magic. L o o k .

T h e s c e n e r e t u r n s . T h e w i l l o w sees itself
drowning in the weir and the w o m a n
gives t h e kiss o f m y t h h e r h u m a n h e a t .
Reflections. Reflections. He b e c o m e s her lover.

T h e o l d r o m a n c e s m a k e n o b o n e s a b o u t it.
T h e l o n g a n d s h o r t o f it. T h e e n d a n d t h e b e g i n n i n g .
T h e g l o r i e s a n d t h e o r n a m e n t s are m u t e d .
A n d w h e n the story ends the song is over.

F O N D MEMORY

I t w a s a s c h o o l w h e r e all t h e c h i l d r e n w o r e d a r n e d w o r s t e d ;
w h e r e t h e y c r i e d - o r a l m o s t all - w h e n t h e R e v e r e n d M o t h e r
a n n o u n c e d at l u n c h - t i m e that the K i n g had died

peacefully in his s l e e p . I d r e s s e d in w o o l as w e l l ,
ate r a t i o n e d f o o d , p l a y e d E n g l i s h g a m e s a n d l e a r n e d
h o w wise the M a g n a Carta was, h o w hard t h e H a n o v e r i a n s

h a d tried, t h e m e a s u r e a n d c o m p l e x i t y o f verse,
the h u m and score of the w h o l e orchestra.
At three-o-clock I caught t w o buses h o m e

W I H I C s o m e t i m e s in t h e late a f t e r n o o n
.it a p i . n i t ) p u s h e d i n t o a c o i n c i o l t h e p l a y r o o m
Illy l . i l h e i w o u l d sit d o w n a n d play t h e s l o w

273
lilts o f T o m M o o r e w h i l e I s t o o d t h e r e t r y i n g
n o t to w e e p at the cigarette s m o k e stinging up
f r o m b e t w e e n his fingers a n d - as m u c h as I c o u l d t h i n k

I t h o u g h t this i s m y c o u n t r y , w a s , w i l l b e a g a i n ,
this u p w a r d - s t r a i n i n g s o n g m a d e t o b e
o u r safe i n v e n t o r y o f p a i n . A n d I w a s w r o n g .

T H E BLACK LACE FAN MY M O T H E R GAVE ME

I t w a s t h e first gift h e e v e r g a v e h e r ,
b u y i n g i t for five francs i n t h e G a l e r i e s
i n p r e - w a r Paris. I t w a s stifling.
A starless d r o u g h t m a d e t h e n i g h t s s t o r m y .

T h e y s t a y e d i n t h e c i t y for t h e s u m m e r .
T h e y m e t i n cafes. S h e w a s a l w a y s early.
H e w a s l a t e . T h a t e v e n i n g h e w a s later.
T h e y w r a p p e d t h e fan. H e l o o k e d a t his w a t c h .

S h e l o o k e d d o w n t h e B o u l e v a r d des C a p u c i n e s .
S h e o r d e r e d m o r e coffee. S h e s t o o d u p .
T h e streets w e r e e m p t y i n g . T h e heat was killing.
She t h o u g h t t h e distance smelled of rain a n d lightning.

T h e s e are w i l d r o s e s , a p p l i q u e d o n silk b y h a n d ,
darkly picked, stitched boldly, quickly.
T h e rest i s t o r t o i s e s h e l l a n d has t h e r e t i c e n t ,
c l e a r p a t i e n c e of its e l e m e n t . It is

a w o r n - o u t , u n d e r w a t e r bullion and it keeps,

e v e n n o w , a n i n f e r e n c e o f its v i o l a t i o n .
T h e lace i s o v e r c a s t a s i f t h e w e a t h e r
i t o p e n e d for a n d offset h a d e n t e r e d it.

T h e past i s a n e m p t y café t e r r a c e .
A n airless d u s k b e f o r e t h u n d e r . A m a n r u n n i n g .
And no way n o w to k n o w what happened then
n o n e at all u n l e s s , ol c o u r s e , y o u i m p r o v i s e :

276
T h e b l a c k b i r d o n this first s u l t r y m o r n i n g ,
i n s u m m e r , f i n d i n g b u d s , w o r m s , fruit,
feels t h e h e a t . S u d d e n l y s h e p u t s o u t h e r w i n g
t h e w h o l e , full, flirtatious s p a n o f it.

T H E LATIN LESSON

Easter light in t h e c o n v e n t garden.

T h e e u c a l y p t u s t r e e glitters i n it.
A b e l l rings for
t h e first class.

T o d a y the Sixth B o o k of the Aeneid.

A n o l d n u n calls d o w n t h e c o r r i d o r .
M a n n e r s , girls. W h e r e
are y o u r m a n n e r s ?

Last n i g h t i n his L e n t e n talk

t h e local p r i e s t a s k e d u s t o r e m e m b e r
everything is put here
for a p u r p o s e :

e v e n e u c a l y p t u s l e a v e s are suitable
for m a k i n g oil f r o m t o s t e e p w o o l i n ,
to s w e e t e n o u r blankets
and gaberdines.

M y f o r e f i n g e r c r a w l s o n t h e lines.
A storm light c o m e s in from the bay.
H o w beautiful the w o r d s
look, h o w

vagrant and strange on the page

b e f o r e w e c r u s h t h e m for t h e i r f r a g r a n c e
a n d crush t h e m again
to discover

t h e p a t h w a y t o hell a n d that t h e s e
s h a d o w s i n theil s h a d o w b o d i e s ,
 chittering and m o b b i n g
o n t h e far

shore, signalling their h u n g e r for

t h e small usefulness of a life, a r e
the dead. A n d h o w
b e f o r e t h e bell

w i l l I hail t h e b l a c k k e e l a n d f l a t t e r t h e d a r k
b o a t m a n a n d cross t h e r i v e r a n d still
k e e p a civil t o n g u e
in my head?

M I D N I G H T FLOWERS

I go d o w n step by step.
T h e h o u s e i s q u i e t , full o f t r a p p e d h e a t a n d s l e e p .
I n t h e k i t c h e n e v e r y t h i n g i s still.
N o t h i n g i s d i s t i n c t ; t h e r e i s n o m o o n t o s p e a k of.

I c o u l d be u n d o n e e v e r y single day by
p a r a d o x o r w h a t t h e y call i n t h e c o u n t r y s i d e
blackthorn winter,
w h e n h a i l s t o n e s c o m e w i t h t h e first a p p l e b l o s s o m .

I turn a switch and the garden grows.

A w h o l e s u m m e r ' s w o r k in o n e instant!
I press my face to t h e glass. I c a n see
s h a d o w s o f lilac, o f fuchsia; a d a r k l i k e n e s s o f b l a c k c u r r ;

little c l i e n t s o f s u d d e n n e s s , h o w s u l l e n t h e y a r e a t
t h e margins of the light.
T h e y n e e d n o rain, t h e y h a v e n o roots.
I reach o u t a h a n d ; t h e y are g o n e .

W h e n I was a child a snapdragon was

h e l d a n i n c h f r o m m y face. L o o k , a v o i c e said, this
i s t h e c o l o u r o f y o u r hair. A n d t h e r e i t w a s , m y head,
a p l i a n t j e w e l in t h e h a n d s of s o m e o n e - else-.

.»7H
 A N N A LIFFEY

Life, t h e s t o r y g o e s ,
Was the daughter of Cannan,
A n d c a m e to t h e plain of Kildare.
She loved the flat-lands and the ditches
A n d the unreachable horizon.
S h e a s k e d t h a t i t b e n a m e d for h e r .
T h e r i v e r t o o k its n a m e f r o m t h e l a n d .
T h e l a n d t o o k its n a m e f r o m a w o m a n .

A w o m a n in the d o o r w a y of a h o u s e .
A river in t h e city of h e r birth.

T h e r e , i n t h e hills a b o v e m y h o u s e ,
T h e river Liffey rises, is a s o u r c e .
I t rises i n r u s h a n d l i n g h e a t h e r a n d
Black peat and bracken and strengthens
To claim t h e city it narrated.
S w a n s . S t e e p falls. S m a l l t o w n s .
T h e s m u d g e d air a n d b r i d g e s o f D u b l i n .

D u s k is c o m i n g .
R a i n i s m o v i n g east f r o m t h e hills.

If I c o u l d s e e m y s e l f
I w o u l d see
A w o m a n in a d o o r w a y
W e a r i n g t h e colours that g o w i t h red hair.
A l t h o u g h my hair is no longer red.
I praise
T h e gifts o f t h e r i v e r .
Its shiftless a n d g l i t t e r i n g
R e - t e l l i n g of a c i t y ,
Its clarity as it f l o w s ,
In the c o m p a n y of r u n t flowers and h e r o n s ,
A r o u n d a b e n d at Islandbridge
A n d u n d e r t h i r t e e n b r i d g e s t o t h e sea.
Its p a t i e n c e at t w i l i g h t -
S w a n s n e s t i n g b y it,
N e o n w i n c i n g i n t o it.

Maker of
Places, r e m e m b r a n c e s ,
N a r r a t e s u c h f r a g m e n t s for m e :

O n e b o d y . O n e spirit
O n e place. O n e n a m e .
T h e city w h e r e I w a s b o r n .
T h e r i v e r t h a t r u n s t h r o u g h it.
T h e nation w h i c h eludes m e .

F r a c t i o n s of a life
I t has t a k e n m e a l i f e t i m e
T o claim.

I c a m e h e r e in a c o l d w i n t e r .

I had no children. No country.

I d i d n o t k n o w t h e n a m e for m y o w n life.

My country took hold of me.

My children w e r e born.

I w a l k e d o u t in a s u m m e r dusk
T o call t h e m i n .

.'Hi I
O n e name. T h e n the other one.
T h e beautiful v o w e l s s o u n d i n g o u t h o m e .

M a k e o f a n a t i o n w h a t y o u will
M a k e o f t h e past
W h a t you can -

T h e r e is n o w
A w o m a n in a d o o r w a y .

I t has t a k e n m e

All m y s t r e n g t h t o d o t h i s .

B e c o m i n g a f i g u r e in a p o e m .

Usurping a name and a theme.

A r i v e r is n o t a w o m a n .
A l t h o u g h t h e n a m e s i t finds,
T h e history it makes
A n d suffers -
T h e V i k i n g b l a d e s b e s i d e it,
T h e muskets of the Redcoats,
T h e flames o f t h e F o u r C o u r t s
Blazing into it
A r e a sign.
Any more than
A w o m a n is a river,
A l t h o u g h the course it takes,
T h r o u g h swans courting and distraught willows,
Its p a t i e n c e
W h i c h is also its p o w e r l e s s n e s s ,
F r o m Callary to Islandbridge,
A n d from source t o m o u t h .
Is a n o t h e r o n e .
A n d m my late forties

'HI
Past b e l i e v i n g
L o v e will heal
W h a t l a n g u a g e fails t o k n o w
A n d n e e d s t o say -
W h a t the body means -
I t a k e this sign
A n d I m a k e this m a r k :
A w o m a n in the d o o r w a y of her house.
A river in t h e city of h e r birth.
T h e t r u t h o f a suffered life.
T h e m o u t h o f it.

T h e seabirds c o m e i n f r o m t h e coast
T h e city w i s d o m is t h e y b r i n g rain.
I watch t h e m from my d o o r w a y .
I s e e t h e m as a r g u m e n t s of o r i g i n -
Leaving a harsh force on the h o r i z o n
O n l y t o find i t

S l a n t i n g a n d falling e l s e w h e r e .

W h i c h water -
T h e o n e they leave o r the o n e they p r o n o u n c e
R e m e m b e r s the other?
I am s u r e
T h e body of an ageing w o m a n
Is a m e m o r y
A n d t o find a l a n g u a g e for i t
Is as h a r d
As weeping and requiring
T h e s e birds to cry o u t as if they c o u l d
Recognize their element
R e m e m b e r e d and diminished in
A single t e a r .
A n ageing w o m a n
Finds no shelter in language.
S h e Finds i n s t e a d
Single w o r d s she o n c e l o v e d
Such as ' s u m m e r ' and 'yellow'
A n d 'sexual' and 'ready'
Have suddenly b e c o m e dwellings
F o r s o m e o n e else -
R o o m s a n d a r o o f u n d e r w h i c h s o m e o n e else
Is w e l c o m e , not her. Tell m e ,
A n n a Liffey,
Spirit o f w a t e r ,
Spirit o f p l a c e ,
H o w i s i t o n this
Rainy A u t u m n night
As t h e Irish sea t a k e s
T h e names you made, the names
Y o u b e s t o w e d , a n d gives y o u back
O n l y wordlessness?

A u t u m n rain is
Scattering and dripping
F r o m car-ports
A n d clipped hedges.
T h e g u t t e r s a r e full.

W h e n I came here
I had neither
Children nor country.
T h e trees w e r e arms.
T h e hills w e r e d r e a m s .

I w a s free
T o i m a g i n e a spirit
In the blues and greens,
The hills a n d fogs
( )l a small city.
My children were born.
My country took hold of me.
A v i s i o n in a b r i c k h o u s e .
Is it o n l y l o v e
T h a t m a k e s a place?

I feel it c h a n g e .
M y c h i l d r e n are
G r o w i n g up, getting older.
M y country holds o n
T o its o w n p a i n .

I t u r n off
T h e harsh y e l l o w
P o r c h light and
S t a n d i n t h e hall.
W h e r e is h o m e now?

F o l l o w t h e rain
O u t t o t h e D u b l i n hills.
Let it b e c o m e the river.
L e t t h e spirit o f p l a c e b e
A lost s o u l a g a i n .

In t h e e n d
It will n o t m a t t e r
T h a t I w a s a w o m a n . I am s u r e of it.
T h e body is a source. N o t h i n g m o r e .
T h e r e is a t i m e for it. T h e r e is a c e r t a i n t y
A b o u t t h e w a y i t s e e k s its o w n d i s s o l u t i o n .
Consider rivers.
T h e y are a l w a y s e n r o u t e t o
T h e i r o w n n o t h i n g n e s s . F r o m t h e first m o m e n t
T h e y are g o i n g h o m e . A n d s o
W h e n l a n g u a g e c a n n o t d o i t for u s ,
C a n n o t m a k e u s k n o w l o v e will n o t d i m i n i s h u s .
T h e r e are t h e s e p h r a s e s
Of the ocean

.'HI
T o c o n s o l e us.
Particular and unafraid of their c o m p l e t i o n .
In t h e e n d
Everything that b u r d e n e d and distinguished
W i l l b e lost i n this:
I was a voice.
 P A U L D U R C A N

B o r n Dublin, of C o u n t y M a y o parents, 1944. Educated at Gonzag.i

College and University College C o r k . A full-time p o e t and a gifted
reader, he has performed his w o r k for audiences in m a n y countries
Has collaborated with o t h e r Irish artists, notably the rock singei
Van Morrison and the traditional musician and composer
Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin. Crazy About Women (1991) and Civc Me
Your Hand (1994), t w o books of p o e m s with facing pictorial
reproductions, w e r e written in response to paintings in the
National Galleries of Ireland and England respectively.

T h e twin and perhaps contradictory assumptions that poetry is a sacred

calling and that it should be accessible to everybody lie at the heart ol
Durcan's w o r k . His assiduous populism denied him serious critical
attention until the appearance in 1985 of Tlie Berlin Wall Café. T h e
comic pathos of the title sequence's anatomy of the poet's dying
marriage revealed an imagination as exultantly responsive to personal
disorder as Sylvia Plath's or J o h n Berryman's. Like those American
poets, D u r c a n is at his most inventive w h e n his materials threaten to
o v e r w h e l m h i m . (Daddy, Daddy [1990] has an even m o r e powerful and
m u c h longer title sequence, but its narrative of the poet's relationship
with his father does not lend itself to selection.) T h e delight in
incongruity w h i c h enlivens the cartoon-like political satire of the earln i
w o r k is perhaps s h o w n to best advantage in the recent poems about
paintings, such as ' T h e Levite and His C o n c u b i n e at Gibeah' (based on
the w o r k of that n a m e by Jan Victors). His ear for colloquial speei h
vindicates Durcan's belief that poetry must g r o w out of ordinary life \
distrust of systems and a c o n c e r n for their victims gives an unabashedly
R o m a n t i c , antinomian character to his writing. M a n y of Durcan's inn I
vivid characterisations are w o m e n , like the protagonist o f ' T h e I lauln i
Wife Meets Jesus on the Road N e a r M o o n e ' , arguably the strongest
feminist p o e m yet written in Ireland.

T H E H A T FACTORY

Eleven o'clock and the bar is e m p t y

E x c e p t t o r inysell and a n o l d m a n ;
W e sit w i t h o u r b a c k s t o t h e s t r e e t - w i n d o w ,
T h e s u n i n t h e east s t r e a m i n g t h r o u g h it;
And I think of childhood and s w i m m i n g
U n d e r w a t e r by a famine pier;
T h e ashlar c o u r s i n g o f t h e s t o n e w o r k
Like t h e b a r - r o o m s h e l v e s
S e e n t h r o u g h tidal a m b e r s e a w e e d
In the antique mirror;
N o w myself and the old m a n floating
I n t h e g l o w o f t h e early m o r n i n g s u n
T w i n e d r o u n d each other and o u r newspapers;
A n d o u r p i n t glasses like capstans o n t h e p i e r .
W e d o n o t r e a d o u r daily c h a r t e r s -
Charters of liberty to k n o w what's going on -
B u t h o l d t h e m a s capes b e f o r e reality's b u l l
A n d w i t h g r a c e o f ease w e m a k e o u r passes;
E l C o r d o b e s m i g h t e n v y this o l d small m a n
F o r t h e s w e e t v e r o n i c a s h e m a k e s i n daily life.
He is the recipient of an old-age pension
W h i l e I a m t h a t l o w i n s o c i e t y ' s scale
I do n o t rate the dole
But I am at peace w i t h myself a n d so is h e ;
Although I do not k n o w what he is thinking
H i s small r o u n d fragile n o b l e m o u t h
Has the l o o k of the d o o r of Aladdin's cave
Q u i v e r i n g in expectation of the magic words;
O p e n sesame;
I s u s p e c t t h a t like m e h e i s t h i n k i n g
()f the nothing-in-particular;
Myself, I a m t h i n k i n g o f t h e local h a t f a c t o r y ,
( ) f its h i s t o r y a n d t h e e e r i e fact
T h a t i n m y small t o w n I h a v e n e v e r k n o w n
Anyone w h o worked in it
( ) r h a d t o d o w i t h i t a t all;
As a child I used l o o k t h r o u g h a hole in t h e h e d g e
A t t h e h a t factory d o w n b e l o w i n t h e v a l l e y ;
I used lie f l a t o n m y face i n t h e l o n g grass
A n d put out my head t h r o u g h the hole;
I lad t h e h a t t e r s l o o k e d o u t t h r o u g h t h e i r p o r t h o l e w i n d o w s
r h c y w o u l d have- seen h i g h u p i n t h e hillside
A Ion)-, wild h e d g e r o w b r o k e n o n l y
By the head of the child l o o k i n g o u t t h r o u g h the hole;
I speculate;
A n d a s t o w h a t k i n d o f hats t h e y m a k e ;
A n d do t h e y have a range in black birettas;
A n d do they have a c o n v e y o r belt of toppers;
A n d d o t h e w o r k e r s g e t free hats?
A n d I recall t h e P o p e ' s s k u l l - c a p
Placed on my head w h e n as a boy-child
In a c i t y h o s p i t a l I lay n e a r to d e a t h
A n d the black h o m b u r g o f the r e d - n o s e d u n d e r t a k e r
A n d t h e balaclavas o f assassins
A n d t h e p i x i e s o f t h e lost c h i l d r e n o f t h e m u r d e r e d e a r t h
A n d the multicoloured yamulka of the wandering J e w
A n d t h e black kippa o f m y A m e r i c a n friend
In Jerusalem in the s n o w
A n d t h e p o r t l y E g y p t i a n ' s t i n y fez
A n d t h e t r a g i c B e d o u i n ' s kefia i n t h e sands o f s u n
A n d the m o n k ' s cowl and the nun's wimple
A n d the funereal mortarboards of airborn puritans
A n d t h e m e g a l i t h i c coifs o f t h e p a n c a k e w o m e n o f B r i t t a n y
A n d t h e sleek f e d o r a s o f w e l l - t o - d o t h u g s
A n d sadistic s q u i r e s ' N a p o l e o n i c t r i c o r n s
A n d prancing horse-cavalry in their cruel shakos
A n d the heroic lifeboatman's black s o u ' w e s t e r
A n d t h e nicotine-stained w i g o f the curly-haired barrister
A n d the black busby used as a h a n d b a g by my laughing brothei
A n d t h e silken t u r b a n o f t h e h i g h b r o w w i d o w
A n d foreign legionaries in nullah kepis
A n d M a y D a y presidiums i n astrakhans
A n d b o n n e t s a n d boaters a n d s o m b r e r o s and stetsons
A n d stove-pipes and steeples a n d mantillas and berets
A n d topis and sunhats and deerstalkers and pill-boxes
And naughty grandmothers in toques
A n d bishops' mitres and soldiers' helmets;
A n d i n L a n g u e d o c a n d i n A r a n - c l o t h caps.
A n d w h a t if you were a hatter
A n d you married a hatter
A n d all y o u r s o n s a n d d a u g h t e r s w o r k e d a s h a t t e r s
A n d y o u i n h a b i t e d a h a t - h o u s e all full o f hats:
H a t s , h a t s , h a t s , hats.
H a t s : t h e a p o t h e o s i s o f a n a n c i e n t craft;

.>HH
 A n d I t h i n k o f all t h e n a t i o n a l i t i e s o f Israel
A n d o f h o w e a c h a l w a y s clings t o his n a t i v e h a t ,
H i s priceless a n d m o v e a b l e roof,
H i s hat w h i c h i s t h e last a n d first s y m b o l
O f a m a n ' s s l e n d e r f o o t h o l d o n this e a r t h .
W o m e n a n d girls also w o r k i n t h e f a c t o r y
B u t n o t m a n y o f t h e m w e a r hats;
S o m e w e a r scarves, b u t rarely hats;
N o w there'll b e n o m o r e courting o f maidens
I n s c h o o n e r hats o n d a n g e r o u s cliffs;
It seems part of t h e slavery of liberation
T o e m p t y r e l a t i o n s h i p s o f all c o u r t s h i p
O f w h i c h hats w e r e a n e x c i t i n g part.
P r o b a b l y , I shall n e v e r w e a r a h a t :
S o t h u s I ask t h e o l d m a n
If I m a y l o o k at his t r i l b y -
O l d honesty -
A n d graciously h e hands i t t o m e
A n d w i t h surprise
I n o t e that it was m a n u f a c t u r e d
I n t h e local h a t f a c t o r y
A n d I h a n d it back to h i m -
A c r o w n to its k i n g -
A n d like a k i n g h e blesses m e w h e n h e g o e s ,
W i s h i n g m e a g o o d d a y b e f o r e h e starts
H i s frail p r o g r e s s h o m e a l o n g t h e s t r e e t s ,
A l o n g t h e lanes a n d terraces of t h e hillside,
T o his o n e u p a n d o n e d o w n .
I t u r n a b o u t a n d see
O v e r the w i n d o w p a n e ' s frosted h e m i s p h e r e
A small b l a c k h a t sail s l o w l y past m y e y e s
Into the u n k n o w n ocean of the sun at n o o n .

IIFLLYNOE: T E T E - A - T E T E IN T H E PARISH PRIEST'S PARLOUR

'All, he was a grand m a n . '

' I l c w a s : h e fell o u t o f t h e t r a i n g o i n g t o S l i g o . '

I lc did: he thought he was g o i n g to the lavatory.'
I lc d i d ; m f.K t lie s t e p p e d o u t t h e r e a r d o o r of t h e t r a m '

28V
' H e did: G o d , h e m u s t h a v e g o t a n awful fright.'
' H e d i d : h e s a w t h a t i t w a s n ' t t h e l a v a t o r y a t all.'
' H e did: he saw that it was t h e railway tracks g o i n g away from
him.'
' H e d i d : I w o n d e r if. . . b u t he w a s a g r a n d m a n . '
' H e was: h e had t h e m o s t expensive T o y o t a y o u can b u y , '
' H e had: well, it was only beautiful.'
'It was: he used to have an A u d i . '
' H e h a d : a s a m a t t e r o f fact h e u s e d t o h a v e t w o A u d i s . '
' H e had: and t h e n he had an A v e n g e r . '
' H e had: and t h e n he had a V o l v o . '
' H e had: in the b e g i n n i n g he had a lot of Volkses.'
' H e h a d : h e w a s a g r e a t m a n for t h e V o l k s e s . '
' H e was: did he o n c e have an Escort?'
' H e had not: he had a son a doctor.'
' H e had: and he had a Morris M i n o r t o o . '
' H e h a d : h e h a d a sister a h a i r d r e s s e r i n K i l m a l l o c k . '
' H e h a d : h e h a d a n o t h e r sister a h a i r d r e s s e r i n B a l l y b u n i o n . '
' H e h a d : h e w a s p u t i n a coffin w h i c h w a s p u t i n his f a t h e r ' s cart.'
' H e w a s : his l a d y w i f e sat o n t o p o f t h e coffin d r i v i n g t h e
donkey.'
'She did: A h , b u t he was a grand m a n . '
' H e was: he was a grand m a n
' G o o d night, Father.'
' G o o d night, Mary.'

T H E HAULIER'S WIFE MEETS JESUS ON T H E ROAD NEAR M O O N I

I live i n t h e t o w n o f C a h i r
In the Glen of Aherlow,
N o t far f r o m P e e k a u n
In the townland of T o u r e e n ,
At the foot of Galtee M ó r
In the C o u n t y of Tipperary.
I a m t h i r t y - t h r e e years o l d ,
In the prime of my w o m a n h o o d :
T h e m o u n t a i n s t r e a m o f m y sex
I n spate a n d d a r k l y f o a m i n g ;
T h e w h i t e lulls o l m y breasts

."Jo
Brimful and breathing;
T h e tall t r e e s o f m y e y e s
S c r e e n i n g b l u e skies;
Y e t in each palm of my h a n d
A s h e a f of fallen h e a d s t o n e s .
W h e n I stand in profile
Before my b e d r o o m mirror
W i t h m y h a n d s o n m y h i p s i n m y slip,
Proud of my body,
Unashamed of my pride,
I a p p e a r to m y s e l f a n a k e d s t r a n g e r ,
A w o m a n w h o m I do not k n o w
E x c e p t fictionally i n t h e l o o k i n g - g l a s s ,
Q u i t e dramatically beautiful.
Y e t i n m y s o u l I y e a r n for affection,
M y s o u l i s e m p t y for t h e w a n t o f a f f e c t i o n .
I am m a r r i e d to a h a u l i e r ,
A popular and a wealthy man,
An alcoholic and a c o u n t y councillor,
Father with me of four sons,
By r e p u t e a sensitive m a n a n d he is
Except w h e n he makes love to me:
H e t a k e s l e a v e o f his senses,
H a n d l i n g me as if I w e r e a sack of g r a v e l
Or a carnival d u m m y ,
A fruit m a c h i n e or a d o d g e m .
He m a k e s love to me a b o u t t w i c e a year;
T h e r e a f t e r h e d o e s n o t s p e a k t o m e for w e e k s ,
S o m e t i m e s n o t for m o n t h s .
O n e night in Cruise's Hotel in Limerick
I w h i s p e r e d t o h i m : P l e a s e take m e .
( W e h a d b e e n m a r r i e d five y e a r s
A n d w e had t w o children.)
C h r i s t , d o y o u k n o w w h a t h e said?
W h e r e ? W h e r e do you w a n t me to take you?
A n d h e r o l l e d o v e r a n d fell a s l e e p ,
T a n k e d up w i t h seventeen pints of beer.
W e live i n a G e o r g i a n , T u d o r , Classical G r e e k ,
M o o r i s h , Spanish 1 lacienda, R e g e n c y P e r i o d ,
Ranch I l o u s e , Three-Storey Bungalow
< )n t h e e d g e <>l t h e e d g e <>i t o w n

291
'Poor Joe's R o w '
T h e t o w n s p e o p l e call it,
B u t o u r real a d d r e s s i s ' R o n a l d R e a g a n H i l l ' -
T h a t v u l t u r o u s - l o o k i n g m a n i n t h e States.
W e ' r e about twelve miles from Ballyporeen
O r , a s t h e v u l t u r e flies, a b o u t e i g h t m i l e s .
After a m o n t h or t w o of silence
H e says t o m e : W i f e , I ' m s o r r y ;
I k n o w that we should be separated,
Annulled or whatever,
B u t o n a c c o u n t o f the clients a n d t h e n e i g h b o u r s ,
N o t to m e n t i o n the children, it is plain
A s a pikestaff w e are g l u e d t o o n e a n o t h e r
U n t i l death do us part.
W h y d o n ' t y o u treat yourself
To a w e e k e n d up in Dublin,
A night o u t at t h e theatre:
I'll p a y for t h e w h o l e s h a g g i n g l o t .

T h e r e was a play on at t h e t i m e
In the Abbey T h e a t r e in Dublin
C a l l e d Tfte Gigli Concert,
A n d , because I liked the n a m e -
B u t also b e c a u s e i t s t a r r e d
My favourite actor, T o m H i c k e y -
I telephoned the A b b e y from Cahir.
T h e y h a d b u t o n e v a c a n t seat left!
I w a s so t h r i l l e d w i t h myself,
A n d at the prospect of T o m Hickey
In a p l a y called The Gigli Concert
( S u c h a e u p h o n i o u s n a m e for a p l a y , I t h o u g h t ) ,
T h a t o n e w e t day I drove over to C l o n m e l
A n d I w e n t w i l d , a n d I b o u g h t a w h o l e n e w outfit
I a m n o t o n e b i t afraid t o say
T h a t I s p e n t all o f / J 2 0 0 o n i t
( N o t , o f c o u r s e , that T o m H i c k e y w o u l d see m e
B u t I'd b e seeing myself seeing T o m H i c k e y
W h i c h w o u l d be almost, if not quite,
T h e very next best thing):
A l o n g , t i g h t - f i t t i n g , black skirt
Of Chinese silk.
W i t h m a t c h i n g black j a c k e t
A n d lace-frilled, p e a r l - w h i t e b l o u s e ;
B l a c k fishnet s t o c k i n g s w i t h s e q u i n s ;
Black stiletto h i g h - h e e l e d shoes
O f p u r e ostrich leather.
I t h o u g h t to m y s e l f - s u b c o n s c i o u s l y , of c o u r s e -
If I d o n ' t t r a n s p o s e to be s o m e b o d y ' s femme fatale
I t w o n ' t a n y h o w b e for t h e w a n t o f t r y i n g .

Driving up to Dublin I began to daydream

A n d either at Horse & J o c k e y or Abbeyleix
I t o o k a w r o n g turn and w i t h i n a quarter of an h o u r
I k n e w I w a s lost. I s t o p p e d t h e car
A n d I a s k e d t h e first m a n I s a w o n t h e r o a d
For directions:
' F o l l o w m e ' - h e said - ' m y n a m e i s J e s u s :
H a v e n o fear o f m e - I a m a t r a v e l l i n g a c t o r .
W e ' l l have a drink together in the nearby inn.'
It turned out we w e r e on the road near M o o n e .
(Have y o u ever b e e n to the Cross at M o o n e ?
O n c e my children and I had a picnic at M o o n e
W h e n t h e y w e r e little a n d w e w e r e o n o n e
O f o u r Flight into Egypt jaunts t o D u b l i n .
T h e y ran r o u n d the H i g h Cross r o u n d and r o u n d
A s i f i t w e r e a m a y p o l e , w h i c h m a y b e i t is:
F i g u r e c a r v i n g s o f l o a v e s a n d fishes, l i o n s a n d d o l p h i n s .
I d r a n k b l a c k coffee f r o m a t h e r m o s flask
A n d the children drank red lemonade
A n d t h e y w e r e w e a r i n g b l u e duffle c o a t s w i t h r e d scarves
A n d t h e i r small, r o u n d , l a u g h i n g , f r e c k l e d faces
L o o k e d p o i n t e d l y like t h e faces o f t h e t w e l v e a p o s t l e s
Gazing out at us from the plinth of the Cross
Across a t h o u s a n d years.
O n l y , o f c o u r s e , t h e i r f a t h e r w a s n o t w i t h us:
H e w a s b u s y - b u s y b e i n g o u r family e u p h e m i s m .
E v e r y family i n I r e l a n d has its o w n f a m i l y e u p h e m i s m
Like a h e r a l d i c d e v i c e or a c o a t of a r m s . )
Jesus t u r n e d out to be a lovely m a n ,
All that a w o m a n c o u l d e v e r possibly d r e a m of:
( i e n t l e , w i l d , s o l i - s p o k e n , c o u r t e o u s , sad;
Angular, awkward, candid, methodical;
H u m o r o u s , passionate, angry, kind;
Entirely sensitive to a w o m a n ' s w o r l d .
Discreetly I invited Jesus to s p e n d the night w i t h me -
Stay w i t h m e , t h e d a y i s a l m o s t o v e r a n d i t i s g e t t i n g d a r k -
B u t h e w a v e d m e aside w i t h o n e w a v e o f his h a n d ,
N o t contemptuously, but compassionately.
' O u r night will c o m e , ' h e smiled,
A n d he resumed chatting about my children,
All c u r i o s i t y for t h e i r w e l f a r e a n d w e l l - b e i n g .
I t w a s l i k e a fire b u r n i n g i n m e w h e n h e t a l k e d t o m e .
T h e r e w a s o n l y o n e m a t t e r I felt g u i l t y a b o u t
A n d t h a t w a s m y e m p t y v a c a n t seat i n t h e A b b e y .
A t c l o s i n g t i m e h e kissed m e o n b o t h c h e e k s
A n d we bade o n e another goodbye and then -
J u s t as I h a d all b u t g i v e n up h o p e -
H e kissed m e full o n t h e m o u t h ,
M y m o u t h w e t w i t h alizarin lipstick
( A t u b e o f G u e r l a i n 4 w h i c h I ' v e h a d for t w e l v e y e a r s ) .
As I drove on into Dublin to the Shelbourne Hotel
I k e p t h e a r i n g his M i d l a n d s v o i c e
S a y i n g t o m e o v e r a n d o v e r , across t h e G a r d e n o f G e t h s e m a n e -
O u r n i g h t will c o m e .

Back in the t o w n of Cahir,

In the Glen of Aherlow,
N o t far f r o m P e e k a u n
In the townland of T o u r e e n ,
At the foot of Galtee M ó r
In the C o u n t y of Tipperary,
F o r t h e sake o f s o m e t h i n g t o say
I n f r o n t o f o u r f o u r sons
M y h u s b a n d said t o m e :
W e l l , w h a t w a s B e n j a m i n o G i g l i like?
O h , 'twas a p h e n o m e n a l concert!
A n d w h a t w a s T o m H i c k e y like?
Miraculous - I whispered - miraculous.
O u r n i g h t will c o m e - h e h a d s m i l e d - o u r n i g h t will c o m e .

294
 A R O U N D T H E C O R N E R FROM FRANCIS BACON

A r o u n d the corner from Francis B a c o n

W a s w h e r e w e m a d e o u r first n e s t t o g e t h e r
O n the waters o f the flood;
W h e r e w e first l i v e d i n sin:
T h e s u n n i e s t , m o s t v i r t u o u s days o f o u r life.
N o t e v e n t h e pastoral squalor o f C l a p h a m C o m m o n ,
N o r t h e g h e t t o life o f N o t t i n g H i l l G a t e ,
N o r t h e racial d r a m a o f B a r c e l o n a ,
N o r t h e cliffhanging b o u r g e o i s life o f C o r k C i t y
C o u l d e v e r e q u a l t h o s e initial, p r i m e v a l t i m e s t o g e t h e r
L i v i n g i n sin
In the halcyon ambience of South Kensington,
A h a v e n for p e a c e f u l r e v o l u t i o n a r i e s s u c h a s H a r r i e t W a u g h
O r Francis B a c o n , o r ourselves.
I slept o n a n i r o n i n g b o a r d i n t h e k i t c h e n
A n d y o u slept i n t h e a t t i c :
L a t e a t n i g h t w h e n all t h e o t h e r f l a t - d w e l l e r s
W e r e a b e d and - we t h o u g h t wishfully - asleep,
Y o u c r e p t d o w n t h e attic l a d d e r
T o m a k e love with m e o n the ironing board,
A s i f w e h a d k n o w n e a c h o t h e r i n a p r e v i o u s life
So waterily did o u r t w o b o d y - p h o n e s attune,
U n d e r w a t e r s w i m m i n g face t o face i n t h e d a r k ,
F r a n c i s B a c o n - C i m a b u e style.
M y b o d y - p h o n e was m a d e i n D u b l i n
But y o u r b o d y - p h o n e was m a d e in Japan.
S t a n d i n g u p n a k e d o n t h e k i t c h e n floor,
In the smog-filtered moonlight,
Y o u p l a c e d y o u r h a n d o n m y little folly, m u r m u r i n g :
I h a v e c o m e t o i r o n y o u , Sir B o a r d .
Far from t h e tyrant liberties of D u b l i n , Ireland,
W h e r e the c o m e d y of f r e e d o m was by law forbidden
A n d t r u t h , since t h e f r e e d o m o f t h e State, g o n e underground
W h e n y o u had finished i r o n i n g m e
I felt like h o t silk q u e u i n g u p t o b e b a t h e d
I I n d e r .1 waterfall in S a m a r k a n d
( )i a m o u n t a i n s t r e a m in E n n i s k e r r y .
E v e r y e v e n i n g I w a i t e d for y o u t o c o m e h o m e .
N i p p i n g , o u t <>nl\ i n t h e l u s h h o u i t o t h e d c h i atcssen

293
W h e r e Francis B a c o n , basket u n d e r a r m ,
S u r f a c i n g l i k e M r M o l e f r o m his m e w s a r o u n d t h e c o r n e r ,
Used be stocking up in tomato puree and curry p o w d e r
B e f o r e h e a d i n g off i n t o t h e n i g h t a n d T h e C o l o n y R o o m C l u b
I n t o w h o s e g r e e n d a r k y o u a n d I s o m e t i m e s also t i p t o e d .
In your o w n way you w e r e equally Beatrix Potter-like,
C o m i n g h o m e t o m e l a d e n w i t h fish fingers a n d b a k e d b e a n s .
W h i l e I read to y o u from Dahlberg, you taught me a b o u t the
psyche
Of the female o r a n g - o u t a n g caged in the zoo:
Coronation Street. . . Z Cars . . . The World in Action . . .
T h e n Z C a r s to b e a t all Z C a r s - o u r o w n w o r l d in a c t i o n -
T h e baskets o f y o u r eyes c h o c k - a - b l o c k w i t h y o u r u n i q u e brands
Of t o m a t o puree and curry p o w d e r ;
Or, Tliat Was The Week That Was, a n d t h e n , my s l e e p i n g f r i e n d ,
I n t h e sandhills o f w h o s e s h o u l d e r s sloping secretly d o w n
I n t o small, h o t havens o f p u r e u n s c a t h e d sands
W h e r e t h e o n l y s o u n d s a r e t h e s o u n d s o f t h e sea's tidal w a t e r s
Flooding backwards and forwards,
T o n i g h t is t h e n i g h t t h a t a l w a y s is f o r e v e r -
T e n or t w e n t y minutes in the dark,
A n d in four million years or so
M y s t o m a c h will s w a r m again s u d d e n l y w i t h butterflies,
As with your bowl of water and your towel,
Y o u r c a n d l e a n d y o u r attic l a d d e r ,
Y o u r taut high wire and y o u r balancing pole,
A green minidress over y o u r arm, a Penguin paperback in y o u r
hand,
I w a t c h y o u c o m i n g towards me in the twilight of rush h o u r
On your hands and knees
A n d o n t h e w e t , m a u v e tip o f y o u r e x t e n d e d t o n g u e
T h e t w o m u l t i c o l o u r e d birds o f y o u r p l u m e d eyes ablaze
A r o u n d the c o r n e r from Francis B a c o n .
 from SIX N U N S DIE IN C O N V E N T INFERNO

To die
happy memory of six Loreto nuns
who died
between midnight and morning of
2 June 1986

We resided in a L o r e t o c o n v e n t in t h e c e n t r e of D u b l i n city
O n t h e east side o f a p u b l i c g a r d e n s , S t S t e p h e n ' s G r e e n .
G r a f t o n S t r e e t - t h e paseo
W h e r e e v e r y b o d y paseo'd, i n c l u d i n g e v e n o u r s e l v e s -
D e b o u c h e d on the n o r t h side, and at the t o p of Grafton Street,
O r r o u n d t h e base o f t h e g r e a t p a t r i o t i c p e b b l e o f O ' D o n o v a n
Rossa,
K n e l t t a b l e a u s o f p u n k girls a n d p u n k b o y s .
W h e n I u s e d pass t h e m - s c u r r y i n g as I w e n t -
O f t e n a s n o t t o c a t c h a mass i n C l a r e n d o n S t r e e t ,
T h e Carmelite C h u r c h in C l a r e n d o n Street
(Myself, I n e v e r u s e d t h e C l a r e n d o n S t r e e t e n t r a n c e ,
I always slipped in by w a y of J o h n s o n ' s C o u r t ,
O p p o s i t e t h e side e n t r a n c e t o B e w l e y ' s O r i e n t a l C a f é ) ,
I c o u l d n o t h e l p b u t s m i l e , as I s u c k e d on a F o x ' s m i n t ,
T h a t for all t h e h a l f - s h a v e n h e a d s a n d t h e m a r t i a l g a r b
A n d the d y e d hair-dos and the nappy pins
T h e y l o o k e d s o c o n v e n t i o n a l , really, a n d v u l n e r a b l e ,
Clinging to w a r paint and to uniforms and to o n e another.
I k n e w it was myself w h o was the ultimate d r o p - o u t ,
T h e d e l i n q u e n t , the recidivist, the v a g a b o n d ,
T h e wild w o m a n , the subversive, the original p u n k .
Y e t , a l t h o u g h I confess I w a s s m i l i n g , I w a s also afraid,
Appalled b y m y o w n nerve, m y o w n fervour,
My apocalyptic enthusiasm, my other-worldly hubris:
To opt out of the world and to
( lioose such exotic loneliness,
S u c h terrestrial a b a n d o n m e n t ,
A l i f e t i m e of b i c y c l e l a m p s a n d b i c y c l e p u m p s ,
A lifetime of galoshes s t o w e d u n d e r t h e stairs,
A l i f e t i m e of u m b r e l l a s d r y i n g o u t in t h e k i t c h e n s .
I w a s an o l d n u n - an a g e d b e a d s w o m a n -
B u t I was n o daw.
I k n e w w h a t a w e i r d bird I was, I k n e w that w h e n we
W e n t t o b e d w e w e r e a s e e r i e a n aviary a s y o u ' d find
I n all t h e b l o w n - o f f r o o f t o p s o f t h e city:
Scuttling about our d o r m , wheezing, shrieking, croaking,
I n o u r y e l l o w y corsets, w o n k y suspenders, s t r u n g - o u t garters,
A b o n y c r e w i n t h e g o d s o f t h e s l e e p i n g city.
M a n y ' s t h e n i g h t I lay a w a k e i n b e d
D r e a m i n g w h a t w o u l d befall u s i f t h e r e w e r e a fire:
N o fire-escapes outside, n o fire-extinguishers inside;
To coin a D u b l i n saying,
W e ' d n o t stand a snowball's c h a n c e in hell. F a n c y that!
It seemed too good to be true:
H a p p y death vouchsafed only to the few.
Sleeping up t h e r e was like sleeping at t h e t o p of t h e mast
Of a nineteenth-century schooner, and in the daytime
We old nuns were the ones w h o crawled out on the yardarms
T o stitch and s e w the rigging a n d the canvas.
T o b e sure w e w e r e w e i r d birds, oddballs, Christniks,
For we had d o n e the weirdest thing a w o m a n can do -
S u r r e n d e r e d t h e m a r v e l l o u s passions o f g i r l h o o d ,
T h e innocent dreams of childhood,
N o t for a n i g h t o r a w e e k e n d o r e v e n a L e n t o r a s e a s o n ,
B u t for a l i f e t i m e .
N e v e r to k n o w the love of a m a n or a w o m a n ;
N e v e r to have children of our o w n ;
N e v e r to have a h o m e of our o w n ;
All for w h y a n d for w h a t ?
To follow a y o u n g m a n - w o u l d you believe it -
W h o lived t w o t h o u s a n d years ago i n Palestine
A n d w h o died a c o m m o n criminal strung up on a tree.

As we stood there in the disintegrating dormitory

B u r n i n g to death in the arms of Christ -
O Christ, Christ, c o m e quickly, quickly -
Fluttering a b o u t in o u r tight, gold bodices,
Beating o u r wings in vain,
I t r e m i n d e d m e o f t h e snaps o n e o f t h e sisters t o o k
W h e n w e t o o k a seaside h o l i d a y i n 1 9 5 6
( T h e year Cardinal M i n d s z e n t y w e n t into hiding

298
In the US legation in Budapest.
He was a great h e r o of ours, Cardinal M i n d s z e n t y ,
A n y of us w o u l d h a v e given o u r right arm
T o h a v e b e e n his n u n - d a r n i n g his s o c k s , c o o k i n g his m e a l s ,
M a k i n g his b e d , d o i n g his w a s h i n g a n d i r o n i n g ) .
S o m e b o d y - a n affluent b u d d y o f t h e b i s h o p ' s r e p e n t i n g his
affluence -
Loaned M o t h e r Superior a secluded beach in C o . Waterford -
A r d m o r e , a l o n g t h e coast from T r a m o r e -
A c o v e w i t h p a l m t r e e s , n o less, w e l l off t h e m a i n r o a d .
T h e r e we w e r e , fluttering up and d o w n the beach,
Scampering hither and thither in our starched bathing-costumes.
T o n i g h t , e x p i r i n g i n t h e fire, w a s q u i t e m u c h l i k e t h a t .
O n l y i n s t e a d o f s c a m p e r i n g i n t o t h e w a v e s o f t h e sea,
N o w w e w e r e s c a m p e r i n g i n t o t h e f l a m e s o f t h e fire.

T h a t w a s o n e o f t h e g a y e s t d a y s o f m y life,
T h e d a y t h e sisters w e n t s w i m m i n g .
O f t e n i n t h e silent d a r k n e s s o f t h e c h a p e l after B e n e d i c t i o n ,
D u r i n g the E x p o s i t i o n o f t h e Blessed S a c r a m e n t ,
I g l i m p s e d t h e sea a g a i n as it w a s t h a t d a y .
P r a y i n g - d a y d r e a m i n g really -
I b e c a m e aware that Christ is the o c e a n
F o r e v e r rising a n d falling o n t h e w o r l d ' s s h o r e .
N o w t o n i g h t i n t h e c o n v e n t C h r i s t i s t h e fire i n w h o s e w a v e s
W e are d o o m e d b u t d e l i g h t e d t o d r o w n .
And, darting in and out of the flames of the dormitory,
G a b r i e l , w i t h t h a t e x t r a o r d i n a r y m e s s a g e o f his o n his b o y i s h lips,
F r e n e t i c a l l y p e d a l l i n g his s k y b i k e .
He whispers into my ear w h a t I must do
A n d I d o it - a n d d i e .
E a c h o f u s i n o u r o w n t i n y , frail, f u r t i v e w a y
W a s a M o t h e r of G o d , m o t h e r i n g forth illegitimate Christs
I n t h e s t r e e t life o f D u b l i n c i t y .
G o d h a v e m e r c y o n o u r w h i r r i n g souls -
W i l d w o m e n w e r e w e all -
A n d on the misfortunate, p o o r fire-brigade m e n
W h o s e task i t will b e t o s h o v e l u p o u r ashes a n d s h o v e l
W h a t is left ol us i n t o black plastic refuse sacks.
Fire b r i g a d e m e n are t h e salt o f t h e e a r t h .
Isn't it a marvellous t h i n g h o w y o u r h o u r c o m e s
W h e n y o u least e x p e c t it? W h e n y o u lose a t h i n g ,
N o t to k n o w a b o u t it until it actually happens?
H o w , in so m a n y ways, losing things is such a refreshing
experience,
G i v i n g y o u a sense o f f r e e d o m y o u ' v e n o t o f t e n e x p e r i e n c e d ?
H o w l u c k y I w a s to lose - I say, lose - lose my life.
It w a s a S u n d a y n i g h t , a n d after v e s p e r s
I skipped b a t h r o o m so that I c o u l d h o p straight i n t o b e d
A n d g e t i n a b i t o f a r e a d b e f o r e lights o u t :
C o n o r C r u i s e O ' B r i e n ' s n e w b o o k The Siege,
All a b o u t Israel a n d s u p e r l a t i v e l y insightful
F o r a m a n w h o t h e y say i s r e p u t e d l y a n a g n o s t i c -
I g o t a l o a n of it f r o m t h e b r o t h e r - i n - l a w ' s m a r r i e d n i e c e -
B u t I w a s t i r e d o u t a n d I fell a s l e e p w i t h t h e b o o k o p e n
F a c e d o w n across m y b r e a s t a n d I w o k e
T o t h e r a c k e t o f b e l l o w i n g f l a m e a n d s n a r l i n g glass.
T h e first t h i n g I t h o u g h t w a s t h a t t h e b r o t h e r - i n - l a w ' s m a r r i e d n i e c e
W o u l d n e v e r again get h e r C o n o r C r u i s e O ' B r i e n back
A n d I had seen on t h e p r i c e - t a g that it cost £ 2 3 . 0 0 :
S m a l l w o n d e r t h a t t h e c u s t o m o f s n i p p i n g off t h e p r i c e
A s a n e x e r c i s e i n social d e p o r t m e n t has s i m p l y d i e d o u t ;
I n d e e d a b o o k t o d a y i s a l m o s t w o r t h b u y i n g for its p r i c e ,
Its p r i c e f r e q u e n t l y b e i n g m o r e r e m a r k a b l e t h a n its c o n t e n t s .

T h e strange Eucharist of my death -

T o b e e a t e n alive b y fire a n d s m o k e .
I clasped the d r a g o n to my breast
A n d s t r o k e d his r e d - h o t ears.
S t r a n g e ! T h e r e w e w e r e , all s l e e p i n g m o l e c u l e s ,
S u d d e n l y all g i v i n g b i r t h t o o u r d e a t h s ,
All frantically i n l a b o u r .
Doctors and midwives w e a v e d in and out
I n g o w n s o f s m o k e a n d g l o v e s o f fire.
C h r i s t , l i k e a n O r t h o d o x p a t r i a r c h i n his d r e s s i n g - g o w n ,
F l e w u p a n d d o w n t h e d o r m i t o r y , s p l a s h i n g w a t e r o n o u r souls:
Sister E u c h a r i a ; Sister S e r a p h i a ; Sister R o s a r i o ;
Sister G o n z a g a ; Sister M a r g a r e t ; Sister E d i t h .
If y o u will r e m e m b e r us - six n u n s b u r n t to d e a t h -
R e m e m b e r u s for t h e frisky girls t h a t w e w e r e .
N o w m o r e than ever kittens in the sun.

\( H I
 T H E LATE MR CHARLES LYNCH DIGRESSES
to Siabhra

H a v i n g sat all m o r n i n g a t t h e b a y w i n d o w
O f t h e r u n - d o w n b o a r d i n g h o u s e o n t h e b i t c h - b e d e c k e d hill
O v e r l o o k i n g the d r o w n e d city o f C o r k
W i t h a l o n g - s t e m m e d wine-glass balancing on the fulcrum
O f his l a d y l i k e , c r o s s e d k n e e s - t h e d e c e a s e d v i r t u o s o
I n t h e t h r e a d b a r e b l a c k g r e a t c o a t a n d f r a y e d w h i t e shirt
Tiptoes through the urban heat
A n d s c r u p u l o u s l y digresses i n t o t h e C o r k S c h o o l o f M u s i c
W h e n , from n e x t d o o r ' s crucial radio studios,
A production technician, Evie, comes skittering -
' M r L y n c h , they necessitate y o u urgently n e x t d o o r . '
W i t h o u t a l t e r i n g t h e a d a g i o o f his gait, o r its c a n t a b i l e ,
T h e ghostly pianist, t h e master digresser,
Perilously whispers:
' I ' m s o r r y , E v i e - b u t I ' m dashing.'

T H E LEVITE A N D HIS C O N C U B I N E AT GIBEAH

A f t e r P a u l D u r c a n left his w i f e
- A c t u a l l y s h e left h i m b u t it is m o r e recherche to say
T h a t h e left h e r -
W o u l d y o u b e l i e v e i t b u t h e t u r n e d u p a t o u r villa
W i t h a w o m a n w h o m we had never heard of before,
M u c h less m e t . T o our villa! T h e K e r r s o f D u n d a l k !
I, Mrs Kerr, with a w i n d o w f r a m e around my neck!
Y o u will n o t believe i t b u t h e actually asked m e
T o p u t h i m u p for t h e n i g h t - a n d his f r i e n d -
A slip of a t h i n g , h a l f his a g e .
I said t h a t I w o u l d b u t i n s e p a r a t e b e d r o o m s .
T h i s is a family h o m e - I h a d to r e m i n d h i m .
I resented having to r e m i n d him.

T h e pair o f t h e m p r o c e e d e d t o s q u a t i n s i l e n c e
In t h e l i v i n g r o o m l o r w h a t w.is left of t h e e v e n i n g
So that I ( o u l d not e v e n s w i t c h on t h e t e l e v i s i o n .
As a c o n s e q u e n c e I m i s s e d Twin Peaks.

tin
W h a t got up my nose
W a s t h a t s h e sat o n t h e s t e p o f t h e fireplace
O n a c u s h i o n f r o m o u r sofa t h r o w n d o w n b y h i m
W i t h h e r h a n d s j o i n e d a r o u n d his k n e e s :
H i m s e l f sitting in my h u s b a n d ' s armchair
As if he o w n e d it - w i t h o u t so m u c h as a ' M a y I?'

S h e w a s g o t u p i n a l o u d s p o k e n y e l l o w dress
A n d t h o s e p r e c i o u s little h a n d s o f h e r s a r o u n d his k n e e s
A s i f his k n e e s w e r e p i l l o w s ;
H e r face a t e a t o w e l o f h o l y i n n o c e n c e
A s i f m a r g a r i n e w o u l d n o t m e l t i n h e r tonsils.
I w o u l d go so far as to say t h a t it w a s i n d e l i c a t e -
T h e w a y s h e h a d h e r h a n d s j o i n e d a r o u n d his k n e e s .

As s o o n as I began to y a w n , he began to speak:

H o l d i n g forth until three o'clock in the a.m.
O n w h a t h e called his ' T h e o r y o f P e r i p e t e i a ' -
A d o g ' s d i n n e r o f g i b b e r i s h a b o u t t h e p h i l o s o p h i c a l significance
O f ' n o t caring b e i n g the secret to transforming misfortune'.
Finally I s t o o d u p a n d d e c l a r e d ' P e r i p e t e i a , G o o d n i g h t ' .
I installed t h e pair of t h e m in separate b e d r o o m s .
I left m y o w n b e d r o o m d o o r o p e n .

I fell a s l e e p a b o u t five.
W h e n I k n o c k e d h i m u p for breakfast
She answered the door. I was that indignant
T h a t w h e n t h e y c a m e d o w n for breakfast
I g a v e t h e m p o r r i d g e - l i k e it or l u m p it.
I did n o t utter o n e w o r d to t h e m
U n t i l t h e y h a d finished.
T h e n I t o o k h i m aside a n d I let h i m h a v e it:

N o w listen t o m e P a u l D u r c a n :
Y o u m a y be a p o e t and a Levite
B u t y o u will n o t take advantage o f m e .
Get yourself and your - your - your concubine
O u t o f m y D u n d a l k villa.
H o w d a r e a w o m a n w e a r a l o u d s p o k e n y e l l o w dress
W h e n y o u set foot i n G i b e a h n e x t t u n e
1 )o not e v e r I ) u r c a n my d o o r s t e p again.

M)2
K n o w w h a t his r e s p o n s e w a s ? T o ask m e
I f h e m i g h t b o r r o w m y Shell G u i d e a n d m y d o n k e y ?
T o b e r i d o f h i m I g a v e i n - m o r e fool I .
H e s h i m m i e d o u t t h e d o o r s i n g i n g t o himself:
' W e b o r r o w e d t h e l o a n o f K e r r ' s b i g ass
To go to Dundalk with butter

K n o w w h a t h e did then? H e w e n t d o w n t o that old peasant

In the lane at the e n d of the a v e n u e - K a v a n a g h -
W h o g o e s a b o u t t h e t o w n a l w a y s w i t h his s o c k s d o w n
B e c a u s e h e u s e d play f o o t b a l l for M u c k e r - R o t t e r d a m :
Kavanagh w i t h that - that ridiculous -
T h a t - that vulgar -
T h a t - t h a t gross
Brass k n o c k e r o n his f r o n t d o o r .
 B E R N A R D O ' D O N O G H U E

B o r n Cullen, n o r t h - w e s t C o r k , 1945. Educated at O x f o r d University,

w h e r e he lectures in medieval literature at Magdalen College.
O ' D o n o g h u e is a notable critic of c o n t e m p o r a r y poetry.

O ' D o n o g h u e ' s most c o n v i n c i n g lyrics disguise his sophisticated literary

self-consciousness to r e n d e r aspects of rural Irish experience in a
strongly idiomatic poetic language.

A N U N TAKES T H E VEIL

T h a t m o r n i n g e a r l y I r a n t h r o u g h briars
T o c a t c h t h e calves t h a t w e r e b o u n d for m a r k e t .
I stopped the o n c e , to watch the sun
R i s i n g o v e r D o o l i n across t h e w a t e r .

T h e calves w e r e t e t h e r e d o u t s i d e t h e h o u s e
W h i l e I h a d m y b r e a k f a s t : t h e last o n e a t h o m e
F o r f o r t y y e a r s . I h a d w h a t I w a n t e d ( t h e y said
I c o u l d ) , so w e ' d loaf b r e a d a n d M a r i e biscuits.

W e s t r u n g t h e calves b e h i n d t h e b o a t ,
M e k e e p i n g c l e a r t o p r o t e c t m y style:
C o n f i r m a t i o n suit a n d m y p a t e n t sandals.
B u t I trailed m y fingers i n t h e c o o l g r e e n w a t e r ,

W a t c h i n g t h e puffins d r i v i n g h o m e w a r d
T o t h e i r nests o n A r a n . O n t h e G a l w a y m a i n l a n d
I t i p t o e d clear o f t h e c o w - d u n g e d s l i p w a y
A n d w a t c h e d m y b r o t h e r s h e a v i n g t h e calves

A s t h e y lost t h e i r f o o t i n g . W e w e n t i n a t r a p ,
M y s e l f a n d m y m o t h e r , a n d I said g o o d b y e
T o m y f a t h e r t h e n . T h e last I s a w o f h i m
W a s a h a t a n d j a c k e t a n d a salley stick.

k)4
D r i v i n g cattle to Ballyvaughan.
He died (they told me) in the c o u n t y h o m e ,
A s k i n g t o see m e . B u t t h a t w a s later:
As we trotted on t h r o u g h the m o r n i n g mist,

I s a w a car for t h e first t i m e e v e r ,

H a r d l y seeing it before it vanished.
I c o u l d n ' t b e l i e v e it, a n d I s t o o d u p l o o k i n g
T o w h e r e I c o u l d h e a r its n o i s e d e p a r t i n g

But it was only a glimpse. T h a t night in the c o n v e n t

T h e sisters spoilt m e , b u t I c o u l d n ' t f o r g e t
T h e m o r n i n g ' s v i s i o n , a n d I fell asleep
W i t h the engine h u m m i n g through the open w i n d o w .

T H E WEAKNESS

I t w a s t h e frosty early h o u r s w h e n finally

T h e cow's despairing groans rolled h i m from b e d
A n d i n t o his b o o t s , h a r d l y a w a k e y e t .
H e called ' D a n ! c o m e o n , D a n !
S h e ' s c a l v i n g ' , a n d s t u m b l e d w i t h o u t his c o a t
D o w n t h e icy p a t h t o t h e h a g g a r d .

C a s t o r a n d P o l l u x w e r e fixed i n l i n e
O v e r his h e a d b u t h e d i d n ' t see t h e m ,
This night any m o r e than another.
H e c r o s s e d t o t h e stall, past t h e c o r n e r
O f t h e fairy-fort h e ' d l e v e l l e d last M a y .
B u t this t h a t s t o p p e d h i m , l i k e t h e m i n d ' s s t e p

Backward: w h a t was that, m o r e insistent

T h a n the calf s birth-pangs? ' H o l d o n , D a n .
I think I'm having a weakness.
I n e v e r had a weakness, D a n , before.'
A n d d o w n h e slid, g r o p i n g for t h e lapels
( )l t h e s h o c k e d b o y ' s t w e n t y - y e a r - o l d j a c k e t .

ttr.
 F R A N K O R M S B Y

Born Enniskillen, C o u n t y Fermanagh, 1947. Educated at St Michael's

College, Enniskillen, and Q u e e n ' s University Belfast. Has taught since
1971 at the Royal Belfast Academical Institution, w h e r e he is head of
English. Edited the Honest Ulsterman, 1 9 6 9 - 8 9 . An influential
anthologist, notably of Poets from the North of Ireland (1979; 1990) and
A Rage for Order: Poetry of the Northern Ireland Troubles (1992).

Precise, observant and witty, O r m s b y ' s p o e m s frequently interrogate the

sense of place as a source b o t h of stability and division in
N o r t h e r n Ireland.

PASSING T H E CREMATORIUM

S o m e o n e is leaving t o w n as clean s m o k e
T h i s s u m m e r m o r n i n g , t o o m u c h t h e drifter
N o w t o let u s k n o w - e v e n i f h e c o u l d -
H i s d e s t i n a t i o n . W h o w a t c h e d , p e r h a p s , t h e trail
O f j e t s i n skies a n o t h e r s u m m e r
M a y find a l r e a d y t h a t h e ' s h a l f - w a y t h e r e ;
O r t h i n n e d i n s t e a d i n t o a b l a c k e r air
T h e factories m u s t e r . W h a t e v e r fate
O u r l e i s u r e d t h o u g h t c o n t r i v e s t o fit his j o u r n e y
Pales w i t h o u r passing;
Diverts n o l o n g e r t h a n w e take t o cruise
B e y o n d t h a t frail t h r e a d , s e a w a r d s , this s u m m e r m o r n i n g .

HOME

O n c e , in the Giant's R i n g , I closed my eyes

and t h o u g h t of Ireland,
the air-wide, skin-tight, multiple meaning of here.

W h e n I o p e n e d t h e m I w a s little t h e w i s e r ,
in that, perhaps, o n e

106
 w i t h t h e first settlers i n t h e L a g a n V a l l e y
and the Vietnamese boat-people of P o r t a d o w n .

from A PARIS H O N E Y M O O N

L'ORANGERIE

W e h a v e f l o a t e d t o t h e surface o f M o n e t ' s p o n d
this m o r n i n g i n t h e O r a n g e r i e , s o m e w h e r e a m o n g
discarded b u t t o n h o l e s , bedraggled b o u q u e t s ,
the wreaths of d r o w n e d sorrows.
Y o u r face g r o w s s e c r e t a n d l o v e l y . It is a face
o f m a n y f a t h o m s i n this t i m e a n d p l a c e .
I a m t h e l o v e r o p e n i n g his e y e s
in mid-kiss, as t h o u g h he m i g h t surprise
t h e u n i q u e swirl o f self, w h o c a t c h e s i n s t e a d ,
b u o y a n t a n d t i m e l e s s a n d all u n a w a r e ,
y o u crossing, perhaps, y o u r exact instant of death,
t o o b r i m m e d w i t h love and living to yield it r o o m
for this o r m a n y a y e a r - o r y o u s u b m e r g e d
in the not-yet-carnate m o m e n t of giving birth.
Primordial blossoms. W a t e r y nebulae.
B l u r r e d , breathless features in a s p a w n y h u s h
g a t h e r i n g t o w a r d s us, m i m i n g t h e kiss o f l i g h t .

10/
 C I A R A N C A R S O N

Born Belfast, into an Irish-speaking family, 1948. Educated at St Mary's

Christian Brothers' School and Q u e e n ' s University Belfast. W o r k e d as a
teacher and civil servant before being appointed Traditional Arts Officer
for the Arts C o u n c i l of N o r t h e r n Ireland, a position he c o m b i n e d with
that of Literature Officer in 1991. A musician as well as a poet, Carson
has published The Pocket Guide to Irish Traditional Music (1986).

A distrust of the facility with w h i c h he had reduplicated the m o d e r n

Insh lyric in his first collection (The New Estate, 1976) kept Carson silent
for m o r e than a decade. He r e t u r n e d to publication on evolving a form
adequate to his suspicion of artistic closure: the circling, digressing
narratives of The Irish for No (1987) draw on the traditional storytelling
techniques e n c o u n t e r e d in Carson's Arts C o u n c i l w o r k to play the
literary off against the vernacular in a grim relativistic c o m e d y . 'Dresden'
dramatises a scepticism towards high culture and towards the
mythologies alike of the militarised state and its paramilitary opponents.
Carson's m e t h o d is e x t e n d e d in Belfast Confetti (1989) to offer a densely
textured, b o o k - l e n g t h m a p of a city in an endless process of destruction
and renewal. T h e Belfast o f ' T h e M o u t h ' , ' H a m l e t ' and o t h e r pieces is i
deceptive, unpredictable place, familiar yet m i s r e m e m b e r e d , spookily
normal and reassuringly surreal - a labyrinth as m u c h of mental
categories and linguistic evasions as of streets. ' O v i d : Metamorphoses, V,
5 2 9 - 5 5 0 ' performs o n e of the grittier in a series of Ovidian variations by
c o n t e m p o r a r y poets, After Ovid (1994). W i t h a n o d towards M a c N e i c c ,
'Bagpipe Music' deploys Carson's intimacy with traditional music to
ironic effect.

DRESDEN

H o r s e B o y l e w a s called H o r s e B o y l e b e c a u s e o f his b r o t h e r M u l e ,
T h o u g h w h y M u l e w a s c a l l e d M u l e i s a n y b o d y ' s g u e s s . I stayed
there once,
Or rather, I nearly stayed t h e r e o n c e . B u t that's a n o t h e r story.
A t a n y r a t e t h e y lived i n this d e c r e p i t c a r a v a n , n o t t w o m i l e s o u l
of Carrick,

\()M
E n c r o a c h e d u p o n b y b a r o q u e p y r a m i d s o f e m p t y b a k e d b e a n tins,
rusts
A n d ochres, hints of a u t u m n m e r g i n g into twilight. H o r s e
believed
T h e y w e r e a s g o o d a s a w a t c h d o g , a n d t o tell y o u t h e t r u t h
Y o u c o u l d n ' t g o n e a r t h e p l a c e w i t h o u t s o m e t h i n g falling o v e r :
A m i n o r a v a l a n c h e w o u l d e n s u e - m o r e l i k e a s h o p b e l l , really,

T h e old-fashioned ones on string, c o n n e c t e d to the latch, I

think,
A n d as y o u e n t e r e d in, the bell w o u l d tinkle in t h e e m p t y s h o p ,
a musk
O f soap a n d turf and sweets w o u l d hit y o u f r o m t h e g l o o m .
Tobacco.
B a l i n g w i r e . T w i n e . A n d , o f c o u r s e , s h e l v e s a n d p y r a m i d s o f tins.
An old w o m a n w o u l d appear from t h e b a c k - t h e r e was a sizzling
pan in there,
S o m e w h e r e , a w h i f f o f e g g s a n d b a c o n - a n d ask y o u w h a t y o u
wanted;
O r r a t h e r , s h e w o u l d n ' t ask; s h e w o u l d talk a b o u t t h e w e a t h e r .
It had rained
T h a t day, b u t it was l o o k i n g better. T h e y had just p u t in the
spuds.
I h a d o n l y c o m e t o pass t h e t i m e o f d a y , s o I b o u g h t a t o k e n
p a c k e t o f G o l d Leaf.

All t h i s t i m e t h e fry w a s f r y i n g a w a y . M a y b e s h e ' d a d a u g h t e r

in there
S o m e w h e r e , t h o u g h I h a d n ' t h e a r d t h e n e i g h b o u r s talk o f it; i f
anybody knew,
I t w o u l d b e H o r s e . H o r s e k e p t his ears t o t h e g r o u n d .
A n d h e w a s a g r e a t m a n for c u r r e n t affairs; h e o w n e d t h e o n l y T V
in the place.
C o m e d u s k h e ' d set off o n his r o u n d s , t o tell t h e w h o l e t o w n l a n d
t h e latest
S i t u a t i o n i n t h e M i d d l e East, a m o r t a r b o m b a t t a c k i n
Mullaghbawn -
T h e d a m n t h i n g s n e v e r w o r k e d , o f c o u r s e - a n d s o h e ' d tell t h e
story
I l o w i n h i s y o u n g day i t w.is v e r y different. T a k e y o u n g Flytin,
lot llist.iiu c .

m
W h o w a s o r d e r e d t o t a k e this b u s a n d s m u g g l e s o m e sticks o f
gelignite

Across the b o r d e r , i n t o D e n y , w h e n t h e RUC - or was it the

RIC? -
G o t w i n d o f it. T h e b u s w a s s t o p p e d , t h e p e e l e r s t e p p e d o n .
Y o u n g Flynn
T o o k i t like a m a n , o f course: h e o w n e d u p right away. H e
opened the bag
A n d p r o d u c e d t h e b o m b , his r a n k a n d serial n u m b e r . F o r all
the world
L i k e a p o u n d o f sausages. O f c o u r s e , t h e t h i n g w a s , t h e p e e l e r ' s
bike
H a d got a puncture, and he didn't k n o w y o u n g Flynn from
A d a m . All h e w a n t e d
W a s t o g e t h o m e for his t e a . F l y n n w a s i n for s e v e n y e a r s a n d
learned to speak
T h e b e s t o f Irish. H e h a d t h i r t e e n w o r d s for a c o w i n h e a t ;
A w o r d for t h e t h i r d t h w a r t i n a b o a t , t h e w a k e o f a b o a t o n t h e
ebb tide.

H e k n e w t h e e x t i n c t n a m e s o f i n s e c t s , f l o w e r s , w h y this p l a c e w a s
called
W h a t e v e r : Carrick, for e x a m p l e , w a s a rock. H e w a s d a m n r i g h t
there -
As t h e m a n said, When you buy meat you buy bones, when you buy
land you buy stones.
Y o u ' d b e h a r d p u t t o find a s q u a r e f o o t i n t h e w h o l e b l o o d y
parish
T h a t w a s n ' t t h i c k w i t h flints a n d p e b b l e s . T o this d a y h e c o u l d
hear the grate
A n d s c r a p e a s t h e s p a d e s t r u c k h o m e , for i t r e m i n d e d h i m o f
broken bones:
D i g g i n g a g r a v e y a r d , m a y b e - or b e t t e r still, t r y i n g to d i g a
reclaimed tip
O f b r o k e n d e l p h a n d c r o c k e r y w a r e - y o u k n o w t h a t s o u n d that
sets y o u r t e e t h o n e d g e
W h e n t h e c h a l k s q u e a k s o n t h e b l a c k b o a r d , o r y o u s h o v e l ashes
from the stove?
Master M c G i n t y - he'd be on about M c G i n t y then, and
d i s c i p l i n e , t h e capitals
O f S o u t h A m e r i c a , M o o r e ' s Melodies, t h e B a t t l e o f C l o n t a r f , a n d
Tell me this, an educated man like you: What goes on four legs when
it's young,
Two legs when it's grown up, and three legs when it's old? I'd p r e t e n d
I d i d n ' t k n o w . M c G i n t y ' s l e a t h e r strap w o u l d c o m e u p t h e n , stuffed
W i t h t h r e e p e n n y bits t o g i v e i t w e i g h t a n d s t i n g . O f c o u r s e , i t
never did h i m
Any harm: You could take a horse to water but you couldn't make
him drink.
He himself was nearly g o i n g on to be a priest.
And many's the young cub left the school, as wise as when he came.

C a r r o w k e e l w a s w h e r e M c G i n t y c a m e f r o m - Narrow Quarter,
Flynn explained -
Back before the T r o u b l e s , a place that was so m e a n and crabbed,
H o r s e w o u l d h a v e it, m e n w e r e k n o w n t o e a t t h e i r d i n n e r f r o m a
drawer.
W h i c h t h e y ' d slide s h u t t h e m i n u t e y o u ' d w a l k i n .
H e ' d d e m o n s t r a t e this a t t h e k i t c h e n t a b l e , h u n c h e d a n d f u r t i v e ,
squinting
O u t t h e w i n d o w - past t h e t e e t e r i n g m i n a r e t s o f r u s t , d o w n t h e
h e d g e - d a r k aisle -
To w h e r e a stranger m i g h t appear, a passer-by, or w h a t was
maybe worse,
Someone he knew. Someone w h o wanted something. Someone
w h o was hungry.
O f course w h o should c o m e tottering u p the lane that instant b u t
his b r o t h e r

M u l e . I forgot to m e n t i o n t h e y w e r e twins. T h e y w e r e as like

two -
N o , n o t p e a s i n a p o d , for this i s n o t t h e t i m e n o r t h e p l a c e t o
go into
C o m p a r i s o n s , a n d this i s really H o r s e ' s s t o r y , H o r s e w h o - n o w
I'm getting
R o u n d t o i t - flew o v e r D r e s d e n i n t h e w a r . H e ' d e m i g r a t e d
first, to
M a n c h e s t e r . S o m e t h i n g t o d o w i t h scrap r e d u n d a n t mill
lti.o hincry,

n i
G i a n t f l y w h e e l s , b r o k e n l o o m s t h a t w o u l d , e v e n t u a l l y , b e ships,
or aeroplanes.
H e said h e w o r e his fingers t o t h e b o n e .
A n d s o , o n i m p u l s e , h e h a d j o i n e d t h e RAF. H e b e c a m e a r e a r
gunner.
O f all t h e m i s s i o n s , D r e s d e n b r o k e his h e a r t . I t r e m i n d e d h i m o f
china.

A s h e r e m e m b e r e d it, l o n g a f t e r w a r d s , h e c o u l d h e a r , o r a l m o s t
hear
B e t w e e n the rapid desultory thunderclaps, a t h o u s a n d tinkling
echoes -
All across t h e m a p o f D r e s d e n , s t o r e - r o o m s full o f c h i n a s h i v e r e d ,
teetered
A n d collapsed, an avalanche of porcelain, slushing a n d cascading:
cherubs,
Shepherdesses, figurines o f H o p e and Peace a n d V i c t o r y , delicate
b o n e fragments.
H e r e c a l l e d i n p a r t i c u l a r a f i g u r e f r o m his c h i l d h o o d , a m i l k m a i d
S t a n d i n g o n t h e m a n t e l p i e c e . E a c h n i g h t a s t h e y k n e l t d o w n for
t h e rosary,
His eyes w o u l d w a n d e r u p t o w h e r e she s e e m e d t o b e c k o n t o
h i m , smiling,
Offering h i m , eternally, h e r p i t c h e r o f milk, h e r m o u t h o f rose
and cream.

O n e d a y , r e a c h i n g u p t o h o l d h e r y e t a g a i n , his fingers s t u m b l e d ,
a n d s h e fell.
H e lifted d o w n a b i s c u i t t i n , a n d o p e n e d it.
I t b r e a t h e d a n a n t i q u e i n c e n s e : t h i n g s like p e n c i l s , snuff, t o b a c c o .
His w a r medals. A b r o k e n rosary. A n d t h e r e , t h e m i l k m a i d ' s
creamy hand, the outstretched
P i t c h e r o f m i l k , all t h a t s u r v i v e d . O u t s i d e , t h e r e w a s a s c r a p i n g
A n d a t i t t e r i n g ; I k n e w M u l e ' s s t e p b y n o w , his careful d r u n k e n
weaving
T h r o u g h t h e tin-stacks. I m i g h t have stayed t h e night, b u t there's
no time
To go back to that n o w ; I could hardly, at any rate, pick up the
thread.
I w a n d e r e d o u t t h r o u g h t h e s t e e p l e s o f r u s t , t h e g a t e that was a
broken bed.

112
 COCKTAILS

B o m b i n g at about ninety miles an h o u r w i t h the exhaust

skittering
T h e s k i d - m a r k e d pitted tarmac o f K e n n e d y W a y , they hit the
r a m p a n d sailed
Clean over the r e d - a n d - w h i t e guillotine of the c h e c k - p o i n t and
landed
O n the M l flyover, t h e n disappeared before t h e Brits k n e w w h a t
hit t h e m . So
T h e story w e n t : w e w e r e i n the W h i p and Saddle bar o f the
Europa.

T h e r e w a s talk o f s o m e o n e w h o w a s s h o t n i n e t i m e s a n d l i v e d ,
a n d s o m e o n e else
H a d the inside info, o n t h e R o m p e r R o o m . W e w e r e trying t o
r e m e m b e r t h e facts
B e h i n d t h e Black & D e c k e r case, w h e n s o m e o n e o r d e r e d a n o t h e r
drink and we entered
T h e r e a l m o f J a b b e r w o c k s a n d A n g e l s ' W i n g s , W i d o w s ' Kisses,
Corpse Revivers.

THE MOUTH

T h e r e w a s t h i s h e a d h a d t h i s m o u t h h e k e p t s h o o t i n g off.
Unfortunately.
I t c o u l d h a v e b e e n w o r s e for u s t h a n i t w a s for h i m .
Provisionally.
B u t since n o t h i n g i n this w o r l d i s certain a n d y o u d o n ' t k n o w
w h o hears w h a t
W e t h o u g h t i t w a s t i m e h e b i t off m o r e t h a n h e c o u l d c h e w .
Literally.
B y t h e t i m e h e i s f o u n d t h e r e ' l l b e n o t h i n g m u c h left t o tell
w h o he was.

But of course s o m e clever dick from the 'Forscenic Lab'

reconstructs
I I n n , what he u s e d to be not from h i s actual t e e t h , not Ins
fingerpi m t s ,

11 \
 B u t f r o m t h e c o r e - t h e t o o t h m a r k s o f t h e first a n d last b i t e h e ' d
taken of
This sour apple. But then we w o u l d have told t h e m anyway.
Publicity.

HAMLET

A s u s u a l , t h e c l o c k i n T h e C l o c k B a r w a s a g o o d f e w m i n u t e s fast:
A f i c t i o n n o o n e really b o t h e r e d t o m a i n t a i n , u n l i k e t h e s t o r y
T h e c o m r a d e o n m y left w a s t e l l i n g , w h i c h n o o n e k n e w for
certain truth:
Back in 1922 a sergeant, I forget his name, was shot outside the
National Bank . . .
A h y e s , w h a t y e a r w a s i t t h a t t h e y k n o c k e d i t d o w n ? Y e t , its
m e m o r y ' s as fresh
As the inky smell of n e w p o u n d notes - w h i c h interferes w i t h the
beer-and-whiskey
T a n g o f n o w , like t w o dogs m e e t i n g i n the r e v o l u t i o n a r y 6 9 o f a
l o n g sniff,
O r c a t t l e j o s t l i n g s h i t - s t a i n e d flanks i n t h e P o u n d . F o r pound, a s
some wag
I n t e r r u p t e d , w a s a n o f f - s h o o t o f t h e Falls, f r o m t h e Irish, fál, a
hedge;
H e n c e , any kind of enclosed thing, its t w i g s a n d b r a n c h e s
commemorated
By the soldiers' drab and olive camouflage, as they try to m e l t
I n t o a b r i c k w a l l ; r e d c o a t s m i g h t be b e t t e r , after all. At any rate,
This sergeant's number came up; not a winning one. The bullet had his
name on it.
T h o u g h S e r g e a n t X , a s w e ' l l call h i m , d o e s n ' t really f e a t u r e i n
t h e story:
T h e n u b of it is, Tliis tin can which was heard that night, trundling
down
From the bank, down Balaklava Street. Which thousands heard, and no
one ever
Saw. Which was heard for years, any night that trouble might he
Round the corner. . . a n d w h e n it s k i t t e r e d to a halt, y o u k n e w
T h a t s o m e o n e else h a d snuffed it: a n a m e d r i f t i n g like a n
afterthought,

\U
A j c r i b b l e d wisp of s m o k e y o u try and grasp, as it b e c o m e s
diminuendo, then
V a n i s h e s . F o r fál is also frontier, boundary, as in the undiscovered
country
For whose boujM. no traveller returns, t h e i l l e g i b l e , t h o r n y h e d g e of
t i m e itself -
H e a r t s t o p p i n g m o m e n t s , m e a s u r e d n o t by t h e pulse of a wrist-
watch, nor
T h e a r c h a i c a n a r c h i s t s ' a l a r m - c l o c k , b u t a m e r c u r y tilt d e v i c e
W h i c h 'only connects' on any given b u m p on the road. So, by
this w i n g e d m e s s e n g e r
T h e p r o m i s e ' t o p a y t h e b e a r e r ' i s fulfilled:

A s s o m e o n e b u y s a n o t h e r r o u n d , a n A l l i e d Irish B a n k s £ 1 0 n o t e
drowns in
T h e slops o f t h e c o u n t e r ; a G u i n n e s s stain b l o o m s o n t h e artist's
impression
O f t h e s i n k i n g o f t h e Girona; a t i n y f o a m hisses r o u n d t h e
salamander brooch
Dredged up to show h o w love and m o n e y endure, b e y o n d death
and the Armada,
L i k e t h e b o m b - d i s p o s a l e x p e r t i n his suit o f s a l a m a n d e r - c l o t h .
S h i e l d e d against t h e blast o f t i m e b y a s t r a n g e l y m e d i a e v a l v i s o r ,
H e ' s b e e n o u t m o d e d b y this j e r k y r o b o t w h o s e v a r i o u s
attachments include
A large hook for turning over corpses that may be booby-trapped;
B u t I still h a v e this p i c t u r e o f his h a n d s h e l d u p t o a v e r t t h e
future
In a final act of No surrender, as, t w i s t i n g t h r o u g h t h e m u r k y . ,
fathoms
Of w h a t m i g h t have b e e n , he is w a s h e d ashore as pearl and coral.

This strange eruption to our state is s e e n in o t h e r v e r s i o n s of t h e

Falls:
/1 no-go area, a ghetto, a demolition zone. F o r t h e g h o s t , as it t u r n s
out -
All this a c c o r d i n g to y o u r m a n , a n d I c a n w e l l b e l i e v e it - this tin
ghost,
S i n c e the- streets i t h a u n t e d w e r e a b o l i s h e d , w a s n e v e r h e a r d a g a i n .
T h e s l e e v e o l Raglan Street h a s b e e n u n r a v e l l e d ; the- h e l m e t o l
Balaklava

119
I s t o r n a w a y f r o m t h e m o u t h . T h e d i m g l o w o f G a r n e t has g o n e
out,
A n d w i t h it, all b u t t h e m e m o r y o f w h e r e I l i v e d . I , t o o , h e a r d
the ghost:
A roulette trickle, or the hesitant a n n u n c i a t i o n of a d o w n p o u r ,
ricocheting
O f f t h e w i n d o w ; a g o o d s t r a i n s h u n t i n g d i s t a n t l y i n t o ajsiding,
T h e n g r o a n i n g t o a halt; t h e r a i n y cries o f c h i l d r e n after d u s k .
For the voice from the grave reverberates in others' m o u t h s , as
t h e sails
O f t h e w h i t e t h o r n h e d g e s w e l l u p i n a little b r e e z e , a n d t r e m b l e
L i k e t h e spiral b l o s s o m o f A n d r o m e d a : s o s u d d e n l y a r e s h r o u d s
and branches
H u n g w i t h s t r e e t - l i g h t s , c e l e b r a t i n g all t h a t ' s lost, a s fields are
reclaimed
By the Starry P l o u g h . So we n a m e the constellations, to p u t a
shape
O n w h a t w a s t h e r e ; s o , t h e s t o r y t e l l e r p i c k s his w a y b e t w e e n t h e
i s o l a t e d stars.

B u t , Was it really like that? A n d , /5 the story true?

Y o u m i g h t a s w e l l t e a r off t h e i r o n m a s k , a n d find t h a t n o o n e ,
after all,
Is there: n o t h i n g b u t a cry, a s u m m o n s , clanking o u t from the
smoke
O f d e m o l i t i o n . L i k e s o m e s o n l o o k i n g for his f a t h e r , o r t h e fathei
for his s o n ,
W e try t o piece t o g e t h e r the e x p l o d e d fragments. Let these
b r o k e n spars
S t a n d for t h e A r m a d a a n d its p r o u d full sails, for e v e n i f
T h e c l o c k i s p u t t o r i g h t s , e v e r y o n e will still b e l i e v e it's fast:
T h e b a r m a n ' s s h o u t s o f time w i l l b e i g n o r e d i n a n y case, s i n c e
time
Is c o n v e r s a t i o n ; it is t h e h e d g e t h a t flits i n c e s s a n t l y i n t o t h e
present,
A s w o r d s b l o s s o m f r o m t h e s p e a k e r s ' m o u t h s , a n d t h e flotilla
returns to harbour,
L o n g after h o u r s .
 OVID: METAMORPHOSES, V, 529-550

P e r s e p h o n e a t e s e v e n p o m e g r a n a t e s e e d s . S o w h a t ? I'll tell y o u
what -
I t d o e s n ' t d o t o t o u c h s t r a n g e fruit, w h e n it's f o r b i d d e n b y t h e
Powers-
T h a t - B e . W h o p u t y o u o n a h u n g e r s t r i k e w h i c h , i f YOU b r e a k ,
y o u ' l l stay p u t
In the U n d e r w o r l d . It d o e s n ' t do to get caught out. W a t c h o u t
for p r o w l e r s .

She'd w a n d e r e d into Pluto's m u r k y realm; plucked the dull-

orange bubble.
Split t h e c o r t e x . S u c k e d . A n d w h o w a s s a l i v a t i n g i n t h e b u s h e s '
dark interior
But Ascalaphus. Stoolie. P i p s q u e a k . M o u t h . H e spilled t h e beans
on her, he blabbed -
S t r a i g h t off h e s h o t , a n d k n o c k e d , k n o c k e d , k n o c k e d o n
Heaven's iron door.

B u t s h e spat b a c k a s g o o d a s s h e h a d g o t : u n h o l y w a t e r f r o m t h e
Phlegethon
She slabbered on h i m . His eyes y e l l o w e d , d r o o l e d , a n d g r e w . His
neb b e c a m e a beak.
1 l c s p r o u t e d s p e r m y w i n g s . H o o k e d t a l o n s s h o t f r o m his fingers.
His b o d y dwindled
I n t o m o s t l y h e a d . All ears, all e y e s : t o u t s e v e r y w h e r e , p o t e n t i a l
freaks.

H e w a r e . F o r n o w h e i s t h e s c r a k e - o w l , T r o u b l e s ' a u g u r y for
Auld Lang Syne,
W h o t o this d a y i s h a r b i n g e r o f d o o m , t h e g l o o m o f P l u t o ' s
no-go zone.

BAGPIPE MUSIC

I l c i a m c l i l t i n g d o w n t h e b r a e w i t h a b l a c k t h o r n stick t h e t h i c k
ol a s h o t g u n
In Ins fist, g o i n g /'/•'/' iliilniy dump </ (/«'('(//<• icdttvry idle fortunoodle

11 !
W h e n I s a w his w i l l - o ' - t h e - w i s p g o d a n d e r t h r o u g h a field o f
blue flax randomly, abandonedly
T i l l all his d o t s a n d d a s h e s z i p p e d t o g e t h e r , r i p p e d r i g h t t h r o u g l i
their perforations
L i k e a Z e p h y r t h r o u g h t h e Z o d i a c : t h e w a y a q u a d r i l l e , i n its last
configuration,
T a k e s o n t h e b r a n c h e s o f a s w a s t i k a , all ribs a n d s h a n k s a n d m a l e
and female c h r o m o s o m e s ;
T i l l I h e a r d his v o i c e d i m i n i s h l i k e t h e c o r n c r a k e ' s i n t h e last
a b a n d o n e d acre -
Scrake tithery lass a laddie nation aries hiber Packie, h e ' d be

Oblivious to the black-and-tan, leaf-and-muck-bestrewn

s q u a t t i n g figure
W h o s e o n l y o b v i o u s f e a t u r e s are t h e a l m o s t - b l u e w h i t e s o f his
t w o b l u e e y e s , w h o crabs
F r o m leaf t o s h a d o w , m e s m e r i z e d b y o l i v e a n d b u r n t u m b e r , t h e
khaki, lion patches
Of his C o c k n e y a c c e n t , g o i n g hang bang a bleeper doddle doodlebug
an asterix.
T h e Pisces r o d o f his aerial t w i t c h e d j u s t n o w , a s i f h e ' d g o t t h e
message,
T h a t t h e e a r t h itself w a s c a m o u f l a g e d . B l u e b e l l s c a r p e t e d t h e
q u i v e r e d g l a d e s , as,
T h r e e f i e l d s a w a y , t h e t i c k - t o c k o f t h e g r a n d m o t h e r reassures u s
with the long extended
Skillet o f its p e n d u l u m . T h e w i f e i n all o f this i s s i d e l o n g , p o i s e d
Egyptian
I n h e r fitted k i t c h e n , t h o u g h t h e p i c t o g r a p h i s full o f Ireland's
Own-type details, Virgin
M a r y s , b l u e a n d w h i t e p l a t e s r a n g e d l i k e p u n c t u a t i o n i n t h e lull
of memory.
T h e walls are s e n t e n c e s . W e see t h e t h r e e walls a n d t h e f o u r t h i s
glassy u s .

Ocularity a moiety blah skiddery ah disparity: t h e s h o t g u n m a d e a

kind of statement, t w o
C r o w s falling in a d e a d - b l a c k u m l a u t . The Lucky Shot, my m a n
w o u l d say, a n d f e e d
Me yet a n o t h e r yarn: h o w y o u find a creeper in the u n d e r g r o w t h
and yank.
A n d a r i p p l e d , r i p p e d n e t s h i v e r s t h r o u g h its w a r p o f b l a c k - d a m p
earth aroma.
T h e r e ' s i n k e m b e d d e d i n his t w o e y e s b l u e , l i k e c h i l d r e n ' s d o t s .
Listen close
E n o u g h , you'll get the b l o o p i n g of the retting d a m , parturient, as
bubbles
Pick and p o c k a m o r s e w a y t h r o u g h the stench of r o t t i n g flax. For
it s e e m e d
T h e grandmother produced an alarm-clock from her
psychobabble handbag.

T h a t w a s a t t h e c h e c k - p o i n t . M e a n w h i l e , t h e trail w a s b e g i n n i n g
t o l e a k a n d waft
A w a y , b u t t h e sniffer d o g s p e r s e v e r e d i n t h e i r r e n d i t i o n o f Ttte
Fox Chase, lapping
A n d s n u f f l i n g u p t h e p e p p e r - b l a c k Stardust f i b r i l l a t i n g o n t h e
p a p e r , till
T h e i n t e r v i e w was t h w a r t e d by Aquarius, a blue line on the m a p
that was
C o n t e m p o r a n e o u s w i t h its past. Skirl girn a snaffle birdie girdle on
the griddle howlin -

H e r e a squad of b l a c k - a n d - w h i t e minstrels w h e e l in f r o m Stage

Right, or rather, they
Are w e a r i n g balaklavas, a n d it o n l y looks like that, t h e i r g r i n n i n g
T o o t h p a s t e lips, t h e i r r o l l i n g w h i t e s o f e y e s , t h e i r Tipp-Exed
t e e t h , t h e i r Daz f o r e n s i c
Cloves. T h e y twirl their walking-sticks as thick as guns to
marching tunes
T h a t b l a t t e r i n t h a t f o u r t h g r e e n field across t h e b o r d e r , u p s t a i r s
in a t e n t ,
W i t h C a p r i c o r n - s k i n d r u m s a n d fifes, w h i l e B l a v a t s k y h o l l e r s
through a bullhorn,
(tive ye thirty shillins for yer wan poun ten, yer wan poun ten, yer
Fair e x c h a n g e , t h e y say, s u r e six o f o n e a n d h a l f - a - d o z e n o f t h e
brother -
1 g e t t h e drift o f t h e Bloo i n t h e p o r t a b l e l o o , J o h n , l i k e , i t ' s o n e
p i n g cancels out
rhe pong, going January, February, March! April, May, June, July!

IIV
H e w a s b l a b b i n g w i t h his J e w - o r - j a w ' s h a r p f i n g e r o n his l o w e r
lip, w h e n t h e b r e e c h
O f t h e g u n s n a p p e d o u t its b r e a c h o f t h e p e a c e . T h e l i n e n
handkerchief had got
A b r a c k i n it, s o m e h o w , t h e d o t s a n d d a s h e s o f s o m e o t h e r ' s r e d .
I tried to pin it d o w n
J u s t t h e n , o r p e n i t d o w n , b u t t h e L a m b e g s w o u l d n ' t let m e , a n d
anyway, my t h u m b
A n d f i n g e r ' s s m e a r e d u p t o t h e w r i s t w i t h Lion i n k . M y h a n d
is d i s -
L o c a t e d . T h e u n m a r k e d car c a m e q u i e t l y , e n q u i r i n g l y , w h i l e i n a
no-go zone
T h r e e s t r e e t s a w a y , I h e a r d t w o taxis c r a b b i n g , l i k e G e m i n i i n
Gethsemane, which
Of t h e m w a s b l a c k : honk parp a bullet billet reverup and harp a ballad
Scrake nithery lou a mackie nice wee niece ah libralassie . . .
Just before I p u t t h e t h i n g to b e d , I closed a pair of scorpion's
i n v e r t e d c o m m a s r o u n d it.
T o m o r r o w I w o u l d g l a n c e a t t h e d e c a p i t a t e d h e a d l i n e s , t h e n flick
f o r w a r d t o t h e Stars.
 T O M P A U L I N

Born Leeds, 1949, of English father and N o r t h e r n Irish m o t h e r . M o v e d

to Belfast, 1953. Educated at Annadale G r a m m a r School, Belfast, the
University of Hull and Lincoln College, Oxford. T a u g h t from 1972 at
the University of N o t t i n g h a m , w h e r e he was briefly Professor of Poetry
before b e i n g appointed lecturer in English at Hartford College, Oxford,
in 1994. A founder m e m b e r and director of the Field Day T h e a t r e
C o m p a n y , he has published versions of Aeschylus and Sophocles, and
edited t w o controversial anthologies, The Faber Book of Political Verse
(1986) and The Faber Book of Vernacular Verse (1990). Minotaur: Poetry and
the Nation State (1992) is the most recent of three critical books. A
p r o m i n e n t critic in b o t h print and broadcast media in Britain, Paulin is
currently w o r k i n g on a life of William Hazlitt.

Paulin's poetry is perhaps best seen as a corollary of the brilliant,

tendentious and ultimately equivocal critique of Protestantism
elaborated in his literary essays. T h e decline of Calvinist individualism to
the vulgar, blustering consumerism he wittily - s o m e might say
outrageously - portrays in 'Off the Back of a Lorry' is charted in a series
of superb studies (of Milton, Emily Dickinson, T e d H u g h e s and others)
in Minotaur. Paulin's vision of Ulster unionism in ' D e s e r t m a r t i n ' and
'A W r i t t e n Answer' rests on an aspirational reading of the 1798
rebellion: the Presbyterian U n i t e d Irishmen exist for h i m in an i n n o c e n t
foretime to Protestantism's disastrous pact with imperialism. T h e spiky
acerbity of his style counters any sentimentality in Paulin's historical
conceptions. His m o r e recent w o r k - represented here by the Yeatsian
s p o o f ' T h e Lonely T o w e r ' - seeks to fracture the formalities of lyric
utterance in the interest of a vernacular urgency.

P O T BURIAL

H e has m a r r i e d a g a i n . H i s w i f e
Buys o r n a m e n t s a n d places t h e m
( ) n the dark sideboard. Year by year
H e r vases a n d small jugs c r o w d o u t
T h e smiles o f t h e w i l e w h o d i e d .

I 'i
 WHERE ART IS A MIDWIFE

In the third decade of March,

A Tuesday in the t o w n of Z—

T h e censors are o n day-release.

T h e y must learn a b o u t literature.

T h e r e are things called ironies,

Also symbols, w h i c h carry m e a n i n g .

T h e types o f ambiguity
Are as n u m e r o u s as the e n e m i e s

O f t h e state. F o r m a l and b o u r g e o i s ,
Sonnets sing of the old order,

Its lost g a r d e n s w h e r e w h i t e ladies

Are served w i n e in the subtle shade.

This p o e m about a bear

Is n o t a p o e m a b o u t a b e a r .

I t m i g h t b e t e r m e d a satire
On a loyal friend. Do I n e e d

T o spell i t o u t ? I s i t p o s s i b l e
T h a t n o n e o f y o u can understand?

DESERTMARTIN

A t n o o n , i n t h e d e a d c e n t r e o f a faith,
B e t w e e n Draperstown and Magherafelt,
T h i s b i t t e r village s h o w s t h e flag
In a b a k e d absolute S e p t e m b e r light.
H e r e t h e W o r d has w i t h e r e d t ó a f e w
Parched certainties, and the charred stubble
T i g h t e n s l i k e a b l a c k b e l t , a c r o p of Bibles.

Ml
B e c a u s e this i s t h e t e r r i t o r y o f t h e L a w
I d r i v e across it w i t h a p o w e r l e s s k n o w l e d g e
T h e o w l o f M i n e r v a i n a h i r e d car.
A J o c k sqjoaddy g l a n c e s d o w n t h e s t r e e t
A n d grins, h a p p y a n d e x p e n d a b l e ,
L i k e a brass, c a r t r i d g e . He is a useful t h i n g ,
Almost at h o m e , and yet not quite, not quite.

It's a j i m e d n e s t , this p l a c e . I see a p l a i n

Presbyterian grace sour, t h e n harden,
As a free s t r e n u o u s spirit c h a n g e s ,
To a servile d e f i a n c e t h a t w h i n e s a n d shrieks,. '<
F o r the b o n d a g e of the letter: it shouts
F o r t h e B i g M a n t o l e a d his w e e p e o p l e
T o a c l e a n w h i t e p r i s o n , t h e i r soDrched t o m o r r o w .

M a s c u l i n e Islam, t h e rule of the Just,^

Egyptian sand dunes and g e o m e t r y ,
A t h e o l o g y of rifle-butts a n d executions:
T h e s e are t h e p l a c e s w h e r e t h e spirit d i e s .
A n d n o w , i n D e s e r t m a r t i n ' s sandy light,
I s e e a c u l t u r e of t w i g s a n d b i r d - s h i t
W a v i n g a g a u d y flag i t l o v e s a n d c u r s e s .

OFF T H E BACK OF A LORRY

A zippo lighter
and a quilted jacket,
two rednecks troughing
in a g l e a m y d i n e r ,
t h e flinty c h i p m a r k s
o n a w h i t e e n a m e l pail,
Paisley p u t t i n g p e n t o p a p e r
in C r u m l i n jail,
a j u m b o double
fried p e a n u t b u t t e r
s a n d w i c h Elvis s c o f f e d
d m mi', t h e last
diapered days
 they're m o r e than tacky,
these p u r e d fictions,
a n d l i k e t h e small ads
in a c o u n t r y p a p e r
they build a gritty
sort o f p r o d b a r o q u e
I m u s t r e t u r n to
like m y o w n b o k e .

A W R I T T E N ANSWER

This p o e m by Rupert Brookeborough

i s all a b o u t f i s h i n g a n d t h e s t o u t B - m e n
( t h e y live for a l w a y s i n o u r h e a r t s ,
t h e i r o n l y c r i m e w a s b e i n g loyal),
t h e r e is a l o u g h in it a n d stacks of rivers,
also a b r a v e w e e h y m n t o t h e s t e n - g u n .
T h e poet describes G o u g h o f the C u r r a g h
a n d b y his u s e o f m a n y m e t r i c arts
he d e s i g n s a f i c t i o n a r y u n i v e r s e
w h i c h has its o w n l a w s a n d i s n ' t q u i t e
t h e s a m e a s this p l a c e t h a t w e call real.
H i s use o f m e t o n y m y i s p r e t t y d e s p e r a t e
and the green symbolism's a contradiction,
b u t I like his i m a g e o f t h e e l m a n d c h e s t n u t ,
for to me this a u t h o r is a fly m a n
a n d t h e critics y o n d e r say his w o r k i s a l r i g h t .

T H E LONELY T O W E R

'WANTED - coastal farm, site, derelict house, period house,

stable yard, outhouse, lodge, martello. Must be on sea.
Immediate cash settlement. Box Z0490.'

Either incognito and desperate

o r m o r e likely a small d e v e l o p e r
dreaming the obvious

\2A
they've neither the form n o r the substance
only the theme
b u t w h a t a t h e m e it is
- J o h n Melly's breezeblock bothie
in the dunes above D o o e y Strand
a w i n d y l o o k - o u t post
from the E m e r g e n c y
the Lone Man's H o u s e
at B a l l y e r i s t o n
(baled h a y i n e v e r y r o o m
blank uncurtained w i n d o w s
d u s t sealight b u l l o c k s b l u r p i n g i n t h e fields
d o g g y b o n e s o n t h e k i t c h e n floor)
that coastguard station
- roofless s i n c e t h e state's f o u n d i n g
set o n t h e hillside
a b o v e P o r t n o o Post Office
a n e n t i r e d e s e r t e d village e v e n
w h e r e t h e r o a d g i v e s u p its p o t h o l e d g h o s t
in a wilderness of scree and i r o n s t o n e
- from the dead martello
d o w n t o the shed o n the c e m e n t pier
most any building
in this squally c l a c h a n
could quicken into newness
- y o u can w r i t e t h e m o u t in a verse
or j u m p in a lorry
rammed with cement and timber
t h e n bash bash bash till t h e d a y
w h e n y o u p a i n t Wavecrest o n t h e g a t e p o s t

125
 B I D D Y J E N K I N S O N

'Biddy J e n k i n s o n ' is the p s e u d o n y m of a p o e t b o r n in 1949, w h o is the

wife of a diplomat. W h e n ' C á i t h e a d h ' was published in Poetry Ireland
Review (Summer, 1988) the ' N o t e s on C o n t r i b u t o r s ' described the
author as a ' h e r m i t ' and 'pensioned b e e - k e e p e r ' , and credited the
translator with a v o l u m e called The Flaccid Halo.

J e n k i n s o n is perhaps the most stylistically assured and versatile Irish-

language poet to emerge over t h e last decade. She has imposed a partial
ban on translation of her w o r k into English: 'It is a small rude gesture to
those that think that everything can be harvested and stored w i t h o u t loss
in an English-speaking Ireland.' I have chosen o n e p o e m from the small
n u m b e r she has p e r m i t t e d to appear in dual-language format.
 CÁITHEADH

Dá m b a mise an barruisce ghabhfainn c h u g h a m do bharraicíní

D h é a n f a i n n suirí le do rúitíní le cúr grian-gheal na scribe
Dhéanfainn tathaint ar do choiscéim le haistharraingt na m a i d h m e
is l í o n f a i n n o r t na h i o s c a i d í
le c u i l i t h í n í .

Dá m b a mise an t o n n shúraic dhéanfainn m á n m á n le do ghlúine

C h u i r f i n n c r e a t h á n a c h t a g p r e a b a r n a c h a r fud d o c h e a t h r ú n a
D h é a n f a i n n leisbhearta d e m c h r a i c e a n n duit is triús d e m shíoda
uaine
B r a c h l a i n n t h a r d o b h o l g suas i s
m ó r t a s o r t g o guaillí.

D á m b a m é a n m h u i r i o m g h o r m ghoidfinn uait d o shúile

D ' f h i a r f a i n n c h u g h a m d ' i n t i n n l e siansa i s s u a i t h e a d h
Ruathuile ad tharraingt d o m h a i n d o m h a i n c h u g h a m de rúchladh
Cíocha an chuain ag borradh chughat
le mana múirne

M a r g u r geal a n lá, g u r geal a n s p é i r , g u r d á i m h l i o m g a c h d ú i l e

i s n í fhágfainn b r o i g h e a l l d u b h a r leac
dá b h f é a d h f a i n n é m h ú s c a i l t .
T á a n fharraige a r d , a n g h r i a n g o h a r d , m i s e lán d e g h r á s t a
is f e a m i lár na f e a m a i n n e ag rince leis go sásta.

>2H
 SPRAY

If I w e r e the spreading tide sheets I w o u l d o v e r w h e l m y o u r

insteps
I w o u l d fetch up r o u n d y o u r ankles w i t h t h e s u n b l e a c h e d w r a t h
of storms
I w o u l d coax y o u to step closer w i t h the swishback of the gravel
and swoosh back up b e h i n d your knees
i n curls.

I f I w e r e t h e t u g g i n g b a c k w a s h I w o u l d t i t t e r y o u a n d tease y o u
s e n d w a v e s o f g o o s e f l e s h u p y o u r legs i n s q u a m e s
T h i g h h o l e s o f m y skin for y o u . m y g r e e n e s t silk t o please y o u
H i g h c o m b e r s u p y o u r reefy ribs, y o u r s h o u l d e r s s p u m e d
in squalls

If I w e r e green in essence I w o u l d m e l t y o u r eyes and take t h e m

I w o u l d h o l d y o u r m i n d s u s p e n d e d like t h e w a t e r i n a w a v e
D o w n , you'd flow; deep d o w n to m e , while over you most
blithely
T h e h a r b o u r ' s breasts w o u l d j u t w i t h i n t i m a t i o n s
of a war.

F o r t h e d a y is fine, t h e sky is b r i g h t a n d I am full a n d f r i e n d l y

a n d I ' d l e a v e n o sea s h a g c r u c i f i e d i f I c o u l d p l u m e its f e a t h e r s
S w e l l i n g sea a n d s h i n i n g s u n a n d . . . O h m y d e a r , b e m e r r y
T h e sea staff t h r o u g h t h e sea m e m b r a n e s
is d e l i c a t e l y stirring.

translated by Alex Osborne

 M E D B H M c G U C K I A N

B o r n Belfast, 1950. Educated at the D o m i n i c a n College, Belfast, and

Q u e e n ' s University. W o r k e d as a secondary school teacher for some
years before b e c o m i n g a full-time writer. Has b e e n literary editor of
Fortnight, writer-in-residence at Q u e e n ' s and visiting fellow at the
University of California, Berkeley. Lives in Belfast.

M c G u c k i a n ' s playful, enigmatic lyrics recall the w o r k of Rilke and

Stevens in their absorption w i t h their o w n processes - if n o t in their
sometimes coquettish t o n e . Critics are divided as to w h e t h e r their
challenge to semantic authority issues from postmodernist relativism or
feminist radicalism. ' T h e S e e d - P i c t u r e ' and ' T h e Sitting' explore in
terms of p i c t u r e - m a k i n g the p o w e r relations involved in any act of
representation. ' T h e Flower Master' meditates on the inescapable
tensions of sexuality, managing in the metaphors of the closing lines to
be coy and genitally specific at the same time. 'Porcelain Bells', an
elegiac sequence on the death of the poet's father, is addressed
to her m o t h e r .

T H E SEED-PICTURE

T h i s i s m y p o r t r a i t o f J o a n n a - s i n c e t h e split
T h e children c o m e t o m e like a d u m b - w a i t e r ,
A n d I w o n d e r w h e r e t o p u t t h e m , b e a u t i f u l seeds
W i t h no immediate application .. . the clairvoyance
O f s e e d - w o r k has o p e n e d u p
N e w spectrums o f activity, b e y o n d a s e c o n d h o m e .
T h e seeds dictate their o w n vocabulary,
T h e i r dusty colours capture
M o r e than w e can plan,
T h e m o u l d o n walls, o r j u m b l e d garages,
D e a d flower h e a d s w h e r e i n s e c t s s h a c k . . .
I only guide t h e m not by guesswork
In their necessary n u m b e r s ,
A n d a t t a c h t h e m b y t h e s p i n e t o a perfect b e d d i n g ,
W o o d y orange pips, and t e a r - d r o p apple.

130
T h e banana of the caraway, wrinkled peppercorns,
T h e p o c k e d peach, or waterlily honesty,
T h e seamed cherry stone so hard to break.

W a s it such self-indulgence to enclose her

In the b o r d e r of a g r a n d m o t h e r ' s sampler,
B o n d i n g all t h e s e e d s i n o n e c o n t i n u o u s skin,
T h e sky resolved to a c l o u d t h e l e n g t h of a m a n ?
T o use t a n l i n s e e d for t h e t r e e s , s p i k y
S u n f l o w e r for l e a v e s , b r i g h t lentils
F o r t h e w i n d o w , p a t n a stars
F o r the f l o r a l blouse? H e r hair
Is m a d e of h o o k - s h a p e d marigold, gold
O f p l e a s u r e for h e r lips, like r a s p b e r r y g r a i n .
T h e e y e l i d s o a t m e a l , t h e irises
O f D u t c h blue m a w , black rape
For the pupils, millet
F o r t h e v i c i o u s b e i g e circles u n d e r n e a t h .
T h e single p e a r l b a r l e y
T h a t sleeps a r o u n d h e r d u l l n e s s
Till it catches light, m a k e s w o m e n
F e e l t h e i r a g e , a n d sigh for l i b e r a t i o n .

GATEPOSTS

A m a n w i l l k e e p a h o r s e for p r e s t i g e
B u t a w o m a n ripens best u n d e r g r o u n d .
H e settles w h e r e t h e w i n d
B r i n g s his w h i r l i n g h a t t o rest,
A n d the w i n d decides w h i c h d o o r is to be used.

U n d e r the hip-roofed thatch,

T h e b e d - w i n g i s w a r m e d b y the c h i m n e y breast;
O n e i t h e r side t h e k e e p i n g - h o l e s
F o r his b e l o n g i n g s , h e r s .

I l c s a y s it's u n l u c k y t o w i d e n t h e h o u s e
A n d leaves t h e g a t e p o s t s h o l d i n g u p t h e fairies.
I le l a y s Ins l a / y b e d s a n d Inn iis l lie i i v e i ,

111
 H e builds turf-castles,
A n d sprigs t h e c o r n w i t h a p p l e - m i n t .

She spreads h e a t h e r o n t h e floor

A n d sifts t h e o a t m e a l a r k for t h i n - b r e a d farls:
All t h r o u g h t h e b l u e m o n t h , J u l y ,
S h e tosses s t o n e s i n basins t o t h e s u n ,
A n d w a t c h e s for t h e t r o u t i n t h e h o l y w e l l .

T H E FLOWER MASTER

L i k e f o x g l o v e s i n t h e s c h o o l o f t h e grass m o o n
We c o m e to terms with shade, with the principle
O f e n f o l d i n g s p a c e . O u r scissors i n b r o c a d e ,
W e learn the coolness o f straight edges, h o w
T o s t r o k e g e n t l y t h e n e c k s o f daffodils
A n d m a k e t h e m t h r o w their heads back to the sun.

W e slip t h e t h r e a d y s t e m s o f v i o l e t s , d e l a y
T h e loveliness o f t h e hibiscus d a w n w i t h q u i e t ovals,
Spirals o f f e v e r f e w l i k e w a t e r s p l a s h i n g ,
T h e p a p e r y legacies o f b l u e b e l l s . W e d o
Sea-fans w i t h s e a - l a v e n d e r , m o o n - a r r a n g e m e n t s
R o u g h l y for t h e festival o f m o o n - v i e w i n g .

T h i s b l a c k c o n t a i n e r calls for sloes, s w e e t

Sultan, dainty n i p p l e w o r t , in h o n o u r
O f a special g u e s t , w h o s u m m o n e d t o t h e
Tea ceremony, must stoop to our low doorway,
O u r f o n t a n e l l e , t h e t r o u t ' s d i m p l e d feet.

T H E SITTING

M y half-sister c o m e s t o m e t o b e p a i n t e d :
S h e is p o s i n g f u r t i v e l y , like a l e t t e r b e i n g
Pushed u n d e r a door, m a k i n g a tunnel with her
I l a n d s o v e r h e r d u l l - r o s e dress. Yet h e r c o p p e r y
 H e a d is as b r i g h t as a n e t of l e m o n s , I am
Painting it hair by hair as if she h a d n o t
D i s o w n e d it, o r f o r s a k e n t h o s e u n s p a r k l i n g
E y e s a s b l u e m a y b e sifted f r o m t h e surface
Of a cloud; a n d she questions my brisk
B r u s h w o r k , the n o t e of positive red
I n t h e kissed m o u t h I h a v e g i v e n h e r ,
As a w o m a n ' s t o u c h makes curtains blossom
P e r m a n e n t l y in a h o u s e : s h e calls it
W i s h f u l n e s s , t h e failure o f t h e t a m p e r i n g r a i n
T o g o right i n t o t h e m o u n t a i n , she prefers
M y s e a - s t u d i e s , a n d w i l l n o t sit for m e
Again, s o m e t h i n g half-opened, rarer
T h a n railroads, a soiled r e d - l e t t e r day.

MARCONI'S C O T T A G E

S m a l l a n d w a t c h f u l as a l i g h t h o u s e ,
A p u r e clear p l a c e o f n o p a r t i c u l a r c h i l d h o o d ,
It is as if t h e sea h a d s p o k e n in y o u
A n d then the w o r d s had dried.

B i t t e n a n d f o s t e r e d b y t h e sea
A n d by the British spring,
T h e r e s e e m s o n l y this o n e w a y o f h a p p e n i n g ,
A n d a p o e m t o p r o v e i t has h a p p e n e d .

N o w I am close e n o u g h , I o p e n my arms
To y o u r castle-thick walls, I m u s t learn
T o use y o u r w i l d n e s s w h e n I l o c k a n d u n l o c k
Y o u r d o o r w e a k e r t h a n kisses.

M a y b e y o u a r e a g o d o f sorts,
O r a h u m a n star, l a s t i n g i n spite o f u s
L i k e a n o t e p r o p p e d against a b o w l o f f l o w e r s ,
O r a r e d shirt t o w e a r against light b l u e .

T h e b e d o l y o u i m i n d has w e a t h e r e d
H o o k s ol l o v e , V<»II are ill I have g a t h e r e d

11 \
 T o m e o f otherness; t h e w o r n glisten
Of your flesh is relearned and reloved.

A n o t h e r unstructured, unmarried, unfinished

S u m m e r , slips its u n c l e n c h e d w e a t h e r
Into my winter poems, cheating time
A n d b l o o d o f their timelessness.

L e t m e h a v e y o u for w h a t w e call
Forever, the deeper opposite of a picture,
Y o u r leaves, t h e part o f y o u
T h a t t h e sea first t a l k e d t o .

from PORCELAIN BELLS

3 SPEAKING I N T O T H E CANDLES

This death you have nourished is too orderly,

its f r a g r a n c e t o o c o n v i n c i n g .
Y o u w e a r i t l i k e a n u n u s u a l l y free v e i l ,
so light it flies by m e ;
t h e m i r r o r h a r d l y b e l i e v e s it.
Or as if y o u w e r e living in another t o w n ,
r e j o i n i n g us w i t h a c o m p l e t e l y different
handwriting, timid and beautiful.
L e a v i n g t h e r o o m , y o u b r e a k off a p i e c e o f t h e w o r l d ,
a r o u n d w h i c h m y life i s s t a n d i n g ,
t h r o u g h w h i c h m y b l o o d spreads.
Missing so m u c h world,
y o u still h o l d o u t y o u r h a n d s for m o r e w o r l d ,
y o u r footsteps softening like a creature
before w h o m doors give way.
Y o u lie a l o n e o n a n e w s u r f a c e ,
sharp as y o u r o w n e d g e or a strange birthday,
u n s l e e p i n g early i n a n e w d a r k n e s s ,
t o o - a w a k e like a b r i g h t l y lit h o u s e ,
its p r o l o n g e d a n d c o u n t e d light.
T h e r e is a c l o s e n e s s of m a n y lights in y o u ,
like stars m o v i n g f o r w a r d m e a n i n g f u l l y .

<> H
Every flower in you is e v e r y w h e r e .
E v e n if you w e r e outside, w h e r e s u m m e r was,
y o u w o u l d still b e i n s i d e e v e r y leaf.
P a i n o p e n s y o u r h a n d s like a b o o k
or a t w o - s y l l a b l e w o r d I find as u n i n t e l l i g i b l e
as the w i n d o w s of other people.
Y e t y o u are c o n t i n u a l l y u n d e r s t a n d i n g it,
t h o u g h n o w y o u are d r a i n e d o f all m e a n i n g ,
a n d o u t o f politeness try t o r e m e m b e r
h o w t o b e c o m p l e t e l y afraid.
W h a t do y o u care if I, y o u r y o u n g e r m o u t h ,
stay o r l e a v e , t h o u g h y o u r dress s h o n e u p o n m e
w h e n it willed me into existence?
Y o u cannot anymore be the blue
in my eyes. W h a t is t h e year to y o u
w h e n you have m o v e d outside yourself
and endure the m o t i o n of the earth
a s n o t b e i n g r i g h t for y o u ,
g r o w i n g dark e v e r y w h e r e inside y o u
a s i f y o u r air h a d b e e n d r i v e n o u t
far a b o v e y o u ?
Y e t e v e n a s y o u refuse t o b e u n d e r s t o o d ,
l i k e y o u r city i n w h i c h n o t h i n g
is e v e r f o r g i v e n , if I d a r e
u p o n y o u r s i l e n c e , y o u cry i t o u t w h o l e ,
w i t h a full, u p w a r d g l a n c e ,
like a nightingale.
I will s u r v i v e this l a t e - s p e a k i n g l o v e
w h e n m o r n i n g b e c o m e s conscious
it is no l o n g e r p o s s i b l e -
w h e n t h e eternal procession o f t h e sky
passes o v e r i t a s o v e r n a t u r e .
I t will n o t b e t h e n i g h t
b e t w e e n yesterday and today,
b u t t h e s e less s h a k e n days
I w o u l d h o l d like a r e s u r r e c t i o n
to my breath.
W h e n y o u find y o u r w a y o u t
of t h e j e w e l - g r o o v e of y o u r l i m b s
a n d t h e u s e d - u p b i e e / c g o e s past
y o u r icy e y e l i d ,
already n o longer a n y o n e ' s ,
I will d i v e y o u b a c k t o e a r t h
and pull it up w i t h y o u .
 P A U L M U L D O O N

B o r n P o r t a d o w n , C o u n t y A r m a g h , 1951. B r o u g h t up near the M o y ,

C o u n t y T y r o n e , and educated at St Patrick's College, Armagh, and
Q u e e n ' s University Belfast, w h e r e he was taught by Seamus Heaney.
W o r k e d for many years as a radio p r o d u c e r for the B B C in Belfast until
m o v i n g to the U n i t e d States in the late 1980s. N o w lives in N e w Jersey,
w h e r e he directs the creative w r i t i n g p r o g r a m m e at the University of
Princeton. In addition to seven collections of poetry, M u l d o o n has
written a libretto, Shining Brow (1992), and edited Hie Faber Book of
Contemporary Irish Poetry (1986).

M u l d o o n ' s sardonic virtuosity extends the limits of Irish poetic

e n d e a v o u r even as it exposes t h e m . T h r o u g h a c o m b i n a t i o n of jokes,
puns, m o c k rhymes, hallucinatory anecdotes and parodies, his verse
offers a critique of the language habits fundamental to conflicting
versions of Irish cultural identity. M u l d o o n is o n e of c o n t e m p o r a r y
poetry's most accomplished practitioners of the long p o e m , to w h i c h -
in a characteristic paradox - he brings a miniaturist's eye for detail. A
teasingly allusive extended w o r k has featured as the c o n c l u d i n g p o e m of
each of his volumes since Mules (1977). T h e spoof sonnet sequence
' T h e M o r e a M a n Has the M o r e a M a n W a n t s ' (from Quoof 1983) is
perhaps the most sustained of these, t h o u g h the 150-page elegiac fantasy
' Y a r r o w ' (from The Annals of Chile, 1994) equals it in invention and
underlying seriousness. In charting the adventures of its shape-changing
h e r o Gallogly - a figure based on the Trickster m y t h o l o g y of the
W i n n e b a g o Indians - ' T h e M o r e a M a n Has . . .' sheds a phatasmagoric
light on the deranged logic and ungainsayable violence of the Troubles.
A k n o w l e d g e of the w o r k of R o b e r t Frost and Seamus H e a n e y will take
the reader a considerable way through the n e t w o r k of allusion w h i c h
can m a k e the p o e m ' s narrative structure difficult to discern on first
e n c o u n t e r (the closing line of Frost's 'For O n c e , T h e n , S o m e t h i n g '
provides an indispensable key - ' T r u t h ? A pebble of quartz?
For o n c e , t h e n , something').
 L U N C H W I T H P A N C H O VILLA

'Is it really a r e v o l u t i o n , t h o u g h ? '

I r e a c h e d across t h e w i c k e r t a b l e
W i t h another $10,000 question.
My celebrated pamphleteer,
C o - a u t h o r of such volumes
As Blood on the Rose,
The Dream and the Drums,
And How It Happened Here,
W o u l d pour some untroubled Muscatel
A n d settle b a c k i n his c a n e c h a i r .

'Look, son. Just look a r o u n d you.

P e o p l e are g e t t i n g t h e m s e l v e s k i l l e d
Left, r i g h t a n d c e n t r e
While you do what? Write rondeaux?
T h e r e ' s m o r e t o l i v i n g i n this c o u n t r y
T h a n stars a n d h o r s e s , pigs a n d t r e e s ,
N o t that y o u ' d guess i t from y o u r p o e m s .
D o y o u n e v e r listen t o t h e n e w s ?
Y o u w a n t t o get d o w n t o s o m e t h i n g true,
S o m e t h i n g a little n e a r e r h o m e . '

I called a g a i n l a t e r t h a t a f t e r n o o n ,
A quiet s u b u r b a n street.
' Y o u w a n t t o s t a n d b a c k a little
W h e n t h e w o r l d ' s a t y o u r feet.'
I'd have liked to have heard s o m e m o r e
O f his f a m o u s r e v o l u t i o n .
I rang the bell, and k n o c k e d hard
O n w h a t I r e m e m b e r e d a s his f r o n t d o o r ,
T h a t o p e n e d then, as such doors d o ,
Directly on to a back yard.

II

N o t a n y b a c k y a r d , I ' m b o u n d t o say,
A n d not a t h o u s a n d miles away
f r o m h e r e . N o o n e ' s t a k e n in, I ' m s u r e ,
By such a m i l d i n v e n t i o n .
B u t w h e r e ( I w o n d e r myself) d o I s t a n d ,
In relation to a table a n d chair,
T h e quince-tre.e I forgot to m e n t i o n ,
T h a t suburban street, the d o o r , the yard -
All m a d e u p a s I w e n t a l o n g
A s t h i n g s t h a t p e o p l e live a m o n g .

A n d such a p e r s o n as lived there!

My celebrated pamphleteer!
O f c o u r s e , I g a v e i t all a w a y
W i t h t h o s e p r e p o s t e r o u s titles.
The Bloody Rose? The Dream and the Drums?
T h e three-day-wonder of the flowering plum!
Or was I desperately wishing
To have been their other co-author.
O r , a t least, t o o w n a first e d i t i o n
Of The Boot Boys and Other Battles?

' W h e n are y o u g o i n g t o tell t h e t r u t h ? '

F o r t h e r e ' s n o s u c h b o o k , s o far a s I k n o w ,
As How it Happened Here,
T h o u g h there may be. T h e r e may.
W h a t s h o u l d I say t o this c a l l o w y o u t h > ^ u

W h o l e a r n e d t o w r i t e last w i n t e r -
O n e of those c o r r e s p o n d e n c e courses -
A n d w h o ' s c o m i n g t o lunch today?
He'll be rambling on, no doubt,
A b o u t pigs a n d t r e e s , stars a n d h o r s e s .

CUBA

M y e l d e s t sister a r r i v e d h o m e t h a t m o r n i n g
I n h e r w h i t e m u s l i n e v e n i n g dress.
' W h o t h e hell d o y o u t h i n k y o u a r e ,
R u n n i n g out to dances in next to nothing?
As (hough we hadn't enough bother
W i t h t h e w o i l d at w a r , il not at an e n d . '
M v l a t h e i was p o u n d i n g t h e breakfast table
' T h o s e Yankees w e r e t o u c h and go as it was -
If y o u ' d heard Patton in A r m a g h -
B u t this K e n n e d y ' s n e a r l y a n I r i s h m a n
So he's not m u c h better than ourselves.
A n d h i m w i t h o n l y t o say t h e w o r d .
If you've got anything on your m i n d
Maybe you should m a k e your peace with God.'

I could hear M a y from b e y o n d the curtain.

'Bless m e , F a t h e r , for I h a v e s i n n e d .
I t o l d a lie o n c e , I w a s d i s o b e d i e n t o n c e .
And, Father, a b o y t o u c h e d me once.'
' T e l l m e , c h i l d . W a s this t o u c h i m m o d e s t ?
D i d h e t o u c h y o u r b r e a s t , for e x a m p l e ? '
' H e b r u s h e d against m e , F a t h e r . V e r y g e n t l y . '

ANSEO

W h e n t h e M a s t e r w a s c a l l i n g t h e roll
At the primary school in Collegelands,
Y o u w e r e m e a n t t o call b a c k Anseo
A n d raise y o u r h a n d
As your name occurred.
Anseo, m e a n i n g h e r e , h e r e a n d n o w ,
All p r e s e n t a n d c o r r e c t ,
W a s t h e first w o r d o f Irish I s p o k e .
T h e last n a m e o n t h e l e d g e r
Belonged to Joseph Mary Plunkett Ward
A n d was followed, as often as n o t ,
By silence, k n o w i n g looks,
A n o d and a w i n k , the Master's droll
' A n d w h e r e ' s o u r little W a r d - o f - c o u r t ? '

I r e m e m b e r t h e first t i m e h e c a m e b a c k
T h e Master had sent h i m o u t
Along the hedges
T o w e i g h u p for h i m s e l f a n d c u t
A stick w i t h w h i c h h e w o u l d b e b e a t e n .
After . 1 w h i l e - , n o t h i n g w.is s p o k e n ;

Vln
 He w o u l d arrive as a m a t t e r of course
W i t h an ash-plant, a salley-rod.
O r , finally, t h e h a z e l - w a n d
He had whittled d o w n to a whip-lash,
Its t w i s t o f r e d a n d y e l l o w l a c q u e r s
Sanded and polished,
A n d altogether so delicately w r o u g h t
T h a t h e h a d e n g r a v e d his initials o n it.

I last m e t J o s e p h M a r y P l u n k e t t W a r d
I n a p u b j u s t o v e r t h e Irish b o r d e r .
He was living in the o p e n ,
In a s e c r e t c a m p
O n t h e o t h e r side o f t h e m o u n t a i n .
H e w a s f i g h t i n g for I r e l a n d ,
M a k i n g things happen.
A n d h e told m e , J o e W a r d ,
O f h o w h e had risen t h r o u g h t h e ranks
To Quartermaster, Commandant:
H o w every m o r n i n g at parade
H i s v o l u n t e e r s w o u l d call b a c k Anseo
A n d raise t h e i r h a n d s
As their names occurred.

GATHERING MUSHROOMS

T h e rain c o m e s flapping t h r o u g h t h e y a r d
like a tablecloth that she h a n d - e m b r o i d e r e d .
M y m o t h e r h a s left i t o n t h e l i n e .
It is s o d d e n w i t h rain.
T h e m u s h r o o m shed is windowless, wide,
its h i g h - s t a c k e d w o o d e n trays
£f \ hosed d o w n w i t h formaldehyde.
A n d m y f a t h e r has o p e n e d t h e G a t e s o f T r o y
t o t h a t first l o a d o f h o r s e m a n u r e . JrcJ>
Barley straw. G y p s u m . D r i e d b l o o d . A m m o n i a .
W a g o n alter w a g o n
b l u s t e r s in, a s e l f - r e n e w i n g g o l d - b l a c k d r a g o n
 we push to the back of the m i n d .
We have taken our pitchforks to the w i n d .

All b r o u g h t b a c k t o m e t h a t S e p t e m b e r e v e n i n g
fifteen y e a r s o n . T h e p a i r o f u s
1
t r i p p i n g t h r o u g h B a r n e t t ' s fair d e m e s n e • •'• -
l i k e girls i n l o n g dresses
after a h a i l - s t o r m .
We might have been thinking of the fire-bomb
that sent M a l o n e H o u s e sky-high
a n d its priceless c o l l e c t i o n o f l i n e n
sky-high.
W e might have w e p t with Elizabeth M c C r u m .
W e w e r e t h i n k i n g only o f psilocybin,.
Y o u s a n g o f t h e m a i d y o u m e t o n t h e d e w y grass -
And she stooped so low gave me to know
it was mushrooms she was gathering O.

He'll be w e a r i n g that same old donkey-jacket

and the sawn-off waders^
H e carries a k n i f e , t w o r m n n e t s , a b u c k e t .
H e r e a c h e s far i n t o his o w n s h a d o w .
We'll have taken h i m unawares
a n d s t a n d b e h i n d h i m , slightly t o o n e s i d e .
He is one of those ancient warriors
before the rising tide.
H e ' l l g l a n c e b a c k f r o m u n d e r his p e a k e d c a p
without breaking rhythm:
his c o a x i n g a m u s h r o o m - a flat or a c u p -
a cL^vvL^cL t h e n i c k against his right t h u m b ;
t h e b u c k e t t h e n , t h e p u n n e t t o left o r r i g h t ,
a n d s o o n a n d s o f o r t h till k i n g d o m c o m e . ,
r
, QIj i..#-t • i '

W e followed the o v e r g r o w n t o w - p a t h b y the Lagan.

T h e sunset w o u l d d e e p e n t h r o u g h c i n n a m o n
to aubergine,
t h e w o o d - p i g e o n ' s c o n c e r t o for o b o e a n d s t r i n g s ,
allegro, b l o w i n g y o u r m i n d .
A n d you were suddenly out of my ken, hurtling
towards the ever-receding ground,
into the m a w

142
of a s h i m m e r i n g green-gold dragon.
Y o u discovered yourself in some outbuilding
with your long-lost c o m p a n i o n , m e ,
t h o u g h m y h e a d h a d g r o w n i n t o t h e h e a d o f a horse-
t h a t s h o o k its d i r t y - f a i r m a n e
a n d s p o k e this v e r s e :

Come back to us. However cold and raw, your feet

were always meant
to negotiate terms with bare cement.
Beyond this concrete wall is a wall of concrete
and barbed wire. Your only hope
is to come back. If sing you must, let your song
tell oj treading your own dung,.
let straw and dung give a spring to your step.
If we never live to see the day we leap
into our true domain,
lie down with us now and wrap
yourself in the soiled grey blanket of Irish rain
that will, one day, bleach itself white.
Lie down with us and wait.

T H E MORE A MAN HAS T H E MORE A MAN W A N T S

At four in the m o r n i n g he wakes

to the y a w n of brakes,
t h e s n o r e o f a diesel e n g i n e .
G o n e . All s h e left
is a f r o t h of b r a a n d p a n t i e s .
T h e scum of the Seine
a n d t h e Farset.
G a l l o g l y s q u a t s i n his o w n p e l t .
A s o d i u m street light
has b r o u g h t a n e w d i m e n s i o n
to their black taxi.
By t h e t i m e t h e y force an e n t r y
he'll h a v e s k e d a d d l e d
a m o n g h e n runs a n d pigeon lofts.
T h e c h a r t e r flight f r o m F l o r i d a
touched d o w n at Aldergrove
m i n u t e s earlier,
at 3 . 5 4 a . m .
Its e x c e s s b a g g a g e t a k e s t h e f o r m
of Mangas Jones, Esquire,
w h o is, a s i t t u r n s o u t , A p a c h e .
H e carries o n l y h a n d l u g g a g e .
'Anything to declare?'
He opens the powder-blue attache-
case. ' A p e b b l e o f q u a r t z . '
'You're an Apache?' 'Mescalero.'
H e follows the corridor's
a r r o y o till t h e signs r e a d Hertz.

H e i s g o i n g t o p u t his f o o t d o w n
on a patch of waste g r o u n d
along the Stranmillis e m b a n k m e n t
w h e n h e gets w i n d
o f t h e i r i m p r o m p t u fire.
T h e air a b o v e t h e o n c e - s w e e t s t r e a m
is a q u a r i u m -
drained.
A n d six, m a y b e s e v e n , s k i n h e a d s
have formed a q u o r u m
r o u n d a b u r n t - o u t heavy-duty tyre.
S o i n t e n t o n sniffing g l u e
they m a y n o t notice Gallogly,
o r , i f t h e y d o , a r e s o far g o n e .

T h r e e m i l e s w e s t a s t h e c r o w flies
an all-night carry-out
provides the cover
for a n illegal d r i n k i n g c l u b .
W h i l e the bar m a n unpacks a crate
of Coca-Cola,
one cool customer
t a k e s o n all c o m e r s i n a v i d e o g a m e .
H e grasps w h a t his t w o a c o l y t e s
h a v e failed t o s e i z e .
D o n ' t they k n o w what kind of take-away

\\\
this is, t h e glipes?
1
Vietmanese. Viet-ma-friggin'-kmr. ..
H e d r o p s his p a y l o a d o f n a p a l m .

G a l l o g l y is w e a r i n g a c a n d y - s t r i p e
king-size sheet,
a little s o m e t h i n g h e p i c k e d u p
off a c l o t h e s l i n e .
He is d r i v i n g a milk van
h e b o r r o w e d f r o m t h e Belfast C o - o p
while the m i l k m a n ' s back
was turned.
H e h a d g i v e n t h e m i l k m a n a playful
rabbit p u n c h .
W h e n h e s t e p p e d o n t h e gas
he flooded t h e street
w i t h b r o k e n glass.
He is trying to k e e p a l o w profile.

T h e u n m a r k e d p o l i c e car d r a w s l e v e l
w i t h his last a d d r e s s .
A sergeant and eight constables
pile o u t of a t e n d e r
a n d h a m m e r u p t h e stairs.
T h e s t r e e t bristles w i t h static.
T h e i r sniffer d o g , a L a b r a d o r b i t c h ,
b u r s t s i n t o t h e attic
like D a v i d B a l f o u r in Kidnapped.
A c o n s t a b l e o n his first d a w n s w o o p
leans on a s h o v e l
H e has t u r n e d o v e r a
n e w leaf i n h e r l a d y s h i p ' s h e r b p a t c h .
T h e y ' l l t a k e i t b a c k for analysis.

All a b i t m u c h after t h e n i g h t shift

to m e e t a m i l k m a n
w h o ' s d o u b l e - p a r k e d his v a n
c l o s i n g y o u r f r o n t d o o r after h i m .
I Ic's s p o r t i n g y o u r
D o n e g a l t w e e d suit a n d y o u r
S u n d a y s h o e s a n d p o l i t e l y raises y o m

149
hat as he goes by.
Y o u stand there w i t h y o u r m o u t h o p e n
as he climbs into the still-warm
d r i v i n g seat o f y o u r C o r t i n a
a n d s c r e e c h e s off t o w a r d s t h e m o t o r w a y ,
leaving you uncertain
o f y o u r s t i l l - w a r m w i f e ' s d a m p tuft.

S o m e o n e o n t h e i r w a y t o early M a s s
will find h e r h o g - t i e d
to t h e c h a p e l gates -
O C h i l d of P r a g u e -
big-eyed, anorexic.
T h e l e s s o n for t o d a y
is pinned to her b o m b e r jacket.
It s e e m s to r e a d Keep off the Grass.
H e r l o v e l y h e a d has b e e n c h o p p e d
and changed.
F o r B e a t r i c e , w h o s e fathers
k n e w Louis Q u i n z e ,
t o h a v e c o m e t o t h i s , h e r perruque
o f tar a n d f e a t h e r s .

He is pushing the maroon Cortina

t h r o u g h the sedge
on the banks of the Callan.
It t o o k h i m a m e r e forty m i n u t e s
t o skite u p t h e M l .
H e f o l l o w e d t h e e x i t sign
for L o u g h g a l l a n d h a r e d
a m o n g the t o p - h e a v y apple orchards.
This stretch of the A r m a g h / T y r o n e
border was planted by W a r w i c k s h i r e m e n
w h o planted in turn
t h e i r familiar q u i c k - s e t d a m s o n h e d g e s .
T h e Cortina goes to the b o t t o m .
Gallogly swallows a p l u m m y - p l u m - p l u m .

T i l w a r r a n t t h e m ' s t h e very pair

o' boys I seen abroad
in McParland's b o t t o m , though where

I-K,
in u n d e r G o d -
for thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate -
w h e r e they c o m e from G o d only k n o w s . '
' T h e y w e r e m a d for a b i t e o ' m a t e ,
I s'pose.'
T d o u b t s o . I c o m e across a b r a v e d a l e
o' half-chawed damsels. Wanst w u n disappeared
I follied t h e w u n as yelly as I n d y m a l e . '
' Y e w e r e n ' t afeared?'
' I follied h i m . ' ' G o d save u s . '
' A n ' he driv a w a y in a van b e l o n g i n ' t ' / l r ó . '

T h e grass s p r i g h t l y a s A s t r o t u r f
i n t h e S e p t e m b e r frost
and a mist
here where the ground is low.
H e seizes his o w n w r i s t
as if, as if
Blind P e w again seized J i m
a t t h e sign o f t h e ' A d m i r a l B e n b o w ' .
As if J i m H a w k i n s led Blind P e w
t o Billy B o n e s
a n d t h e y w e r e all o n e a n d t h e s a m e ,
h e stares i n d i s b e l i e f
at an A s p r i n - w h i t e spot he pressed
i n t o his o w n p a l m .

Gallogly's t h o r n - p r o o f t w e e d jacket
i s n o w s e v e r a l sizes t o o b i g .
H e has f l o p p e d
d o w n in a hay shed
to ram a w a d of hay into the toe
o f e a c h o f his i l l - f i t t i n g
b r o g u e s , w h e n h e g e t s t h e drift
of h a m and eggs.
N o w h e ' s l e d b y his o w n w e t n o s e
to the hacienda-style
farmhouse, a baggy-kneed animated
be.ii d r a w n o u t o l t h e w o o d s
b y a n a p p l e pie
It'll t( I ( < )l )l 1 Ml .1 Willi It 1\\ '.ill
She was standing at the picture w i n d o w
w i t h a glass o f w a t e r
and a Valium
w h e n she c a u g h t y o u r m a n
i n t h e r e f l e c t i o n o f h e r face.
He came
s h a p i n g past t h e m i l k i n g p a r l o u r
as if he o w n e d the place.
Such is the integrity
of their quarrel
that she i m m e d i a t e l y t o o k d o w n
t h e legally h e l d s h o t g u n
a n d let h i m h a v e b o t h b a r r e l s .
S h e h a d w a n t e d o n l y t o clear t h e air.

H a l f a m i l e a w a y across t h e v a l l e y
h e r h u s b a n d ' s UDR p a t r o l
is m o u n t i n g a c h e c k - p o i n t .
H e p r i c k s u p his ears
at the crack
of h e r p r e m a t u r e l y arthritic h i p -
joint,
and commandeers one of the jeeps.
T h e r e n o w , only a p o w d e r burn
as if h e r mascara had r u n .
T h e bloody puddle
i n t h e y a r d , a n d t h e shilly-shally
of b l o o d like a c o m m a n d w i r e
petering out behind a milk churn.

A hole in t h e heart, an ovarian

cyst.
C o m i n g up the Bann
in a b u b b l e .
D i s a p p e a r i n g u p his o w n b u m .
O r , r u n n i n g o n the spot
w i t h all t h e m i n o r a p l o m b
of a t r i c k - c y c l i s t .
S o t h i n , s i d e - o n , y o u c o u l d spit
through him.
H i s six foot of p u m p w a t e r
bent double
in agony or laughter.
Keeping d o w n - w i n d of everything.

White Annetts. Gillyflowers. Angel Bites.

W h e n he names the forgotten names
of apples
h e has t h e m all off p a t .
H i s e y e l i k e t h e e y e o f a t r a v e l l i n g rat
lights o n t h e s t u d i e d n e g l i g e n c e
o f t h e s e s c r a w s o f turf.
A tarpaulin. A w a t e r l o g g e d pit.
H e will take stock o f t h e Kalashnikov's
f i l e d - d o w n serial n u m b e r ,
s e v e n sticks o f u n s t a b l e
commercial gelignite
that have already b e g u n to w e e p .
Red Strokes. Sugar Sweet. Widows Whelps.

B u y h i m a drink and he'll regale y o u

w i t h h o w h e c a m e i n for a c u r e
o n e m o r n i n g after t h e n i g h t b e f o r e
t o t h e Las Vegas L o u n g e a n d C a b a r e t .
He was crossing the bar's
eternity of p a r q u e t floor
w h e n his e a g l e e y e
saw s o m e t h i n g m o v e o n the h o r i z o n .
If it w a s n ' t an Indian.
A Sioux. An ugly Sioux.
He means, of course, an Oglala
S i o u x busily tracing t h e family tree
of an Ulsterman w h o had some hand
in the massacre at W o u n d e d K n e e .

H e will a n s w e r t h e h e d g e - s p a r r o w ' s
Littlehitofhreadandnocheese
with a whole bunch
of freshly p i c k e d w a t e r c r e s s ,
a b u l b of garlic,
sorrel,
w i i l i m a n y fat c t e d bla< kbcn•<•••
Gallogly is o u t to lunch.
W h e n his c o c k rattles its sabre
h e t a k e s i t i n his d a b
h a n d , p l a n t s o n e c h a s t e kiss
o n its f o r e l o c k ,
a n d t h e n , w i t h a b i r l a n d a skirl,
tosses it off like a c a b e r .

T h e UDR c o r p o r a l h a d c o m e off d u t y
t o b e w i t h his w i f e
w h i l e t h e o t h e r s set a b o u t
a follow-up search.
W h e n he t r a m p e d out just before twelve
to exercise the g r e y h o u n d
h e w a s h i t b y a single h i g h - v e l o c i t y
shot.
Y o u c o u l d , i f y o u l i k e , p u t y o u r fist
in the exit w o u n d
in his c h e s t .
H e slumps
i n t h e s p u m e o f his o w n arterial b l o o d
l i k e a n o v e r t u r n e d paraffin l a m p .

G a l l o g l y lies d o w n i n t h e s h e u g h
to munch
t h r o u g h a B e a u t y of
B a t h . H e r e p e a t s himself, Bath,
u n d e r his g a r l i c - b r e a t h .
Sheugh, he says. Sheugh.
H e i s f i n d i n g t h a t first ' s h '
i n c r e a s i n g l y difficult t o m a n a g e .
5/z-leeps. A m i l k m a i d sinks
her bare foot
to the ankle
i n a s i m m e r i n g d u n g hill
a n d fills t h e slot
w i t h b e a s t l i n g s for h i m t o d r i n k .

In Ovid's conspicuously tongue-in-cheek

a c c o u n t of an eyeball
t o eyeball

V,i)
b e t w e e n the goddess Leto
and a s h o w e r of Lycian reed cutters
w h o refuse h e r a c u p o f c l o u d y
water
from their c h u r n e d - u p lake,
Live then forever in that lake of yours,
s h e cries, a n d has t h e m
bubble
and squeak
and p l o n k t h e m s e l v e s d o w n as bullfrogs
i n t h e i r icy j i s s o m .

A c o u n t r y m a n k n e e l s o n his c a p
b e s i d e his n e i g h b o u r ' s fresh
grave-mud
as G a l l o g l y k n e e l s to lap
the primrose-yellow
custard.
T h e k n e e s o f his h a n d - m e - d o w n d u d s
are g i n g e r i s h .
A pernickety seven-
year-old girl-child
parades in h e r m o t h e r ' s trousseau
and mumbles a primrose
K l e e n e x tissue
t o m a k e s u r e h e r lipstick's e v e n .

G a l l o g l y has o n l y t o p a r t t h e v e i l
o f its s t o m a c h w a l l
to get right u n d e r t h e skin,
the spluttering heart
and collapsed lung,
o f t h e h o r s e i n Guernica.
H e flees t h e M u s e u m o f M o d e r n A r t
w i t h its b i t b e t w e e n his t e e t h .
W h e n he began to cough
blood, H a m s u n rode the Minneapolis/
N e w Y o r k n i g h t train
on top of the dining-car.
( >i>r l o n g , i n w a r d b o w l
A portei drinkci without a thrapple,

Ml
A w e e k e n d trip to the m o u n t a i n s
North of Boston
w i t h Alice, Alice A.
a n d h e r paprika hair,
the ignition key
t o h e r family's W i n n e b a g o c a m p e r ,
her quim
b i t i n g t h e l e g off h e r .
In the oyster bar
of G r a n d Central Station
she gobbles a d o z e n C h e s a p e a k e s -
' O h , I ' m n o t particular as to size' -
a n d , w i t h a flourish o f t a b a s c o ,
turns to gobble him.

A b r e w e r y lorry on a r o u t i n e delivery
is t a k i n g a s l o w ,
dangerous bend.
T h e driver's blethering
his c o d e n a m e
over the Citizens' Band
w h e n s o m e o n e ambles
i n front o f h i m . G o , J o h n n y , G o , G o , G o .
He's been dry-gulched
by a sixteen-year-old n u m b
with Mogadon,
w h o s e face i s m a s k e d b y t h e s e a m l e s s
black stocking filched
f r o m his m u m .

W h e n w h o should walk in but Beatrice,

l a r g e as life, or l a r g e r ,
s i p p i n g h e r o n e glass o f l a g e r
and singing her o n e song.
I f h e h a d i t t o d o all o v e r again
h e w o u l d let h e r s h a v e his h e a d
in memory of'98
and her o w n , the French, Revolution.
T h e son of the K i n g of the M o y
m e t this c h i l d o n t h e R o x b o r o u g h
e s t a t e . Noblesse, s h e said. Noblesse

V,.'
oblige. A n d h e r t i n y n i p p l e s
w e r e bruise-bluish, wild raspberries.
T h e s o n g she sang was ' T h e C r o p p y B o y ' .

Her grand'mere w a s o n c e a s k e d to tea

by G e r t r u d e Stein,
a n d h e r grand 'mere a n d G e r t r u d e
a n d A l i c e B . , chere A l i c e B .
with her hook-nose,
t h e t h r e e o f t h e m sat i n t h e n u d e
r o u n d t h e p e t i t s fours
a n d r e p e a t e d Eros is Eros is Eros.
I f h e h a d i t t o d o all o v e r again
h e w o u l d still b e t a k e n i n
by her Alice B. Toklas
Nameless Cookies
and those n e w w o r d s she h a d h i m learn:
h a s h , h a s h i s h , lo perfido assassin.

O n c e t h e l o c a l c o u n c i l l o r straps
h i m s e l f i n t o t h e safety b e l t
o f his C i t r o e n
a n d skids u p t h e r a m p
f r o m t h e m u n i c i p a l car p a r k
he upsets the delicate balance
of a m e r c u r y - t i l t
boobytrap.
O n c e t h e y c o l l e c t his s m i t h e r e e n s
he doesn't quite add up.
T h e y ' r e s h y of a f o o t , a n d a calf
w h i c h stems
f r o m his left s h o e l i k e a s e v e r e l y
pruned-back shrub.

T e n years b e f o r e . T h e s m o o t h - a s - a -
front-lawn at Q u e e n ' s
w h e r e she squats
before a psilocybin god.
T h e indomitable gentle-bush
that h a d I a n y o n o r I y n n
revise t h e n elegant g r o u n d p l a n
for t h e u n i v e r s i t y q u a d .
With calmness, with care,
with breast milk, with dew.
There's no cure now.
There's nothing left to do.
T h e m u s h r o o m s speak t h r o u g h her.
Hush-hush.

'Oh, I'm not particular as to size,'

Alice hastily replied
and broke off a bit of the edge
with each hand
and set to work very carefully,
nibbling
first at one
and then the other.
O n t h e S t a t e n Island F e r r y
t w o m e n are d i c k e r i n g
over the price
of a s h i p m e n t of Armalites,
as H e n r y T h o r e a u was w o n t to quibble
with Ralph W a l d o Emerson.

T h a t last n i g h t i n t h e A l g o n q u i n
h e m e t w i t h a flurry
o f sprites,
the assorted shades
of Wolfe T o n e , Napper Tandy,
a sanguine
Michael Cusack
b r a n d i s h i n g his b l a c k t h o r n .
Then, Thomas Meagher
darts u p f r o m t h e M i s s o u r i
o n a ray
o f t h e m o r n i n g star
t o f i e r c e l y ask
w h a t has b e c o m e o f Irish h u r l i n g .

Everyone has heard the story of

a strong and beautiful bug
which came out of the dry leaf
of an old table of apple-tree wood
that stood
in a farmer's kitchen in Massachusetts
and which was heard gnawing out
for several weeks -
W h e n t h e p h o n e trills
he is careful n o t to lose his p a g e -
Who knows what beautiful and winged life
whose egg
has been buried for ages
may unexpectedly come forth? 'Tell-tale.'

G a l l o g l y carries a h u n t i n g b o w
equipped
w i t h a b o w sight
and a quiver
of hunting arrows
belonging to her brother.
A l i c e has g o n e a little w a y off
to do her j o b .
A t i m b e r wolf,
a caribou,
o r m e r e l y a t r i c k o f t h e light?
A s , listlessly,
he lobs
an arrow into the undergrowth.

H a d you followed the river Callan's

Pelorus Jack
through the worst drought
in living m e m o r y
t o t h e rains o f early A u t u m n
w h e n i t s c r u b s its s w o l l e n ,
scab-encrusted back
under a bridge, the bridge you look d o w n from,
you w o u l d be unlikely to pay m u c h h e e d
to yet a n o t h e r old b a n g e r
n o o n e c o u l d b e b o t h e r e d t o tax,
or a b e a t - u p fridge
well sio< k e d w i t h g e l i g n i t e ,
D i s o m e five h u n d r e d yards o l ( !ortcx
H e l o p e s after t h e d r i b s o f b l o o d
t h r o u g h t h e p i n e forest
till t h e y s t o p d e a d
in the ruins of a l o n g h o u s e
or hogan.
S o m e h o w , h e finds his w a y
back to their tent.
N o t so m u c h as a whiff of her musk.
T h e girl b e h i n d t h e A e r L i n g u s
c h e c k - i n desk
at Logan
is w e a r i n g the same scent
a n d a n e m b r o i d e r e d capital l e t t e r A
on h e r breast.

Was she Aurora, or the goddess Flora,

Artemidora, or Venus bright,
or Helen fair beyond compare
that Priam stole from the Grecian sight?
Quite modestly she answered me
and she gave her head one fetch up
and she said I am gathering musheroons
to make my mammy ketchup.
T h e dunt and dunder
of a c u l v e r t - b o m b
wakes him
as it might have w o k e Leander.
And she said I am gathering musheroons
to make my mammy ketchup O.

P r e d i c t a b l e a s t h e gift o f t h e g a b
or a drop of the craythur
h e n o s e s r o u n d t h e six f o o t d e e p
crater.
Oblivious to their Landrover's
olive-drab
and the B u r g u n d y berets
of a snatch-squad of Paratroopers.
Gallogly, or Gollogly,
otherwise k n o w n as Golightly,
otherwise k n o w n as Ingoldsby,

156
otherwise k n o w n as English,
gives f o r t h o n e l o w c r y o f a n g u i s h
and agrees to c o m e quietly.

T h e y h a v e b u n d l e d h i m i n t o t h e cell
for a s t r i p -
search.
He perches
o n t h e balls o f his t o e s , m y m y ,
w i t h his legs s p r e a d
till b o t h his i n s t e p a r c h e s
fall.
He holds himself at arm's
l e n g t h f r o m t h e brilliantly S n o w c e m - e d
wall, a g a m e bird
h u n g b y its p i n i o n tips
till i t d r o p s , i n t h e fullness o f t i m e ,
f r o m t h e m a s t its c o l o u r s are n a i l e d t o .

T h e y h a v e left h i m t o c o o l his h e e l s
after t h e o b l i g a t o r y
bath,
the m u g shots, fingerprints
et cetera.
He plumps the thin bolster
and hints
at t h e slop b u c k e t .
Six o ' c l o c k .
F r o m t h e A W i n g o f A r m a g h jail
h e can m a k e o u t
t h e A n g e l u s bell
of St Patrick's cathedral
and a chorus o f ' F o r G o d and Ulster'.

T h e b r e w e r y l o r r y ' s s t o o d a t a list
by t h e Las Vegas
throughout the afternoon,
its off-side r e a r tyres d o w n .
A s y e t , n o o n e has l o o k e d a g o g
at the smuts and i lists

ol a I ' . I I lie in.i)'

IS/
i n disarray o n t h e p a s s e n g e r seat.
An almost invisible, taut
fishing l i n e
runs from the Playmate's navel
to a p i v o t a l
beer keg.
A s y e t , n o o n e has r i s e n t o t h e b a i t .

/ saw no mountains, no enormous spaces,

no magical growth and metamorphosis
of buildings, nothing remotely like
a drama or a parable
in w h i c h he dons these lime-green
dungarees,
green Wellingtons,
a g r e e n h e l m e t of aspect terrible.
The other world to which mescalin
admitted me was not the world of visions;
it existed out there, in what I could see
with my eyes open.
H e straps a c h e m i c a l p a c k o n his b a c k
and goes in search of s o m e G a w a i n .

Gallogly pads along the block

t o raise his v i s o r
a t t h e first p e e p - h o l e .
H e shamelessly
takes in h e r lean piglet's
back, the back
and boyish hams
of a girl at s t o o l .
At last. A t i n y g o a t ' s - p i l l .
A s t u b of c r a y o n
w i t h w h i c h s h e has s q u i g g l e d
a shamrock, yes,
b u t a s h a m r o c k after t h e s c h o o l
of Pollock, Jackson Pollock.

/ stopped and stared at her face to face

and on the spot a name came to me,
a name with a smooth, nervous sound:
Ylayali.
When she was very close
I drew myself up straight
and said in an impressive voice,
'Miss, you are losing your book.'
A n d B e a t r i c e , for i t i s s h e , s h e s q u i n t s
through the spy-hole
t o pass h i m a n o r a n g e ,
a n O u t s p a n o r a n g e s o m e v i s i t o r has s p i k e d
w i t h a syringe-ful
of vodka.

Tlie more a man has the more a man wants,

the same I don't think true.
For I never met a man with one black eye
who ever wanted two.
In t h e Las Vegas L o u n g e a n d C a b a r e t
the resident g r o u p -
p o t bellies, A r a n knits -
have you eating out of their hands.
Never throw a brick at a drowning man
when you're near to a grocer's store.
Just throw him a cake of Sunlight soap,
let him wash himself ashore.
Y o u w i l l act t h e g a l o o t , a n d g a l l i v a n t ,
a n d call for a n o t h e r e n c o r e .

Gallogly, Gallogly, O Gallogly

juggles
his n a m e l i k e a n o r a n g e
b e t w e e n his o u t s i z e baseball g l o v e
paws,
a n d ogles
a m o o n that's just out of range
b e y o n d the p e r i m e t e r wall.
He works a gobbet of Brylcreem
i n t o his q u i f f
and delves
t h r o u g h sand and gravel,
sill U g g l l l g It nil

his v e l v e t e e n s h o u l d e r s a n d ai ms
 Just
throw
him
a
cake
of
Sunlight
soap,
let
him
wash
him-
self
ashore.

Into a picture by Edward H o p p e r

of a gas s t a t i o n
in the m i d - W e s t
w h e r e H o p p e r t a k e s a s his t h e m e
light, the s p o o k y
g l o w o f a n i l l u m i n a t e d sign
r e a d i n g Esso o r M o b i l
or w h a t - h a v e - y o u -
into such a desolate oval
ride t w o youths on a motorbike.
A h a n d g u n . Balaclavas.
T h e p u m p attendant's g r o w n so used
t o h o l d - u p s h e calls after t h e m :
Beannacht Dé ar an obair.

T h e p u m p attendant's not to k n o w
he's b e i n g w a t c h e d by a gallowglass
hot-foot from a w o o d c u t
by Derricke
w h o skips across t h e f o r e c o u r t
and kicks the black
plastic b u c k e t
t h e y left as a m e m e n t o .
N o r is t h e gallowglass any t h e wiser.
T h e b u c k e t ' s p a c k e d w i t h fertilizer
and a heady brew

J60
 of sugar a n d paraquat's
r e l e n t l e s s l y g n a w i n g its w a y t h r o u g h
the floppy k n o t of a D u r e x .

I t w a s this s e l f - s a m e p u m p a t t e n d a n t
w h o dragged the head and torso
clear
and m o u t h e d an Act of Contrition
i n t h e frazzled e a r
and overheard
t h o s e a l r e a d y - f a m o u s last w o r d s
Moose . . . Indian.
' N e x t o f all w u s t h e h a n ' . ' ' B e J a p e r s . '
' T h e sodgers c o r d o n n e d - o f f t h e area
wi' what-ye-may-call-it tape.'
' L u n i m o u s . ' ' T h e y f o u n ' this h a i r y
han' w i ' a d r o w n e d e d m a n ' s grip
on a l u n i m o u s stone no bigger than a . . . '

'Huh.'

S O M E T H I N G ELSE

W h e n y o u r l o b s t e r w a s lifted o u t o f t h e t a n k
to be weighed
I t h o u g h t of w o a d ,
of m a d d e r s , of fugitive, indigo inks,

of h o w Nerval
was given to p r o m e n a d e
a l o b s t e r on a g o s s a m e r t h r e a d ,
h o w , w h e n a decent interval

h a d passed
(son front rouge encor du haiser de la reitie)
a n d his h o p e s of A d r i e n n e
 p r o v e d false,
he hanged himself from a lamp-post
with a length of chain, w h i c h m a d e me think

o f s o m e t h i n g else, t h e n s o m e t h i n g else a g a i n .

CAULIFLOWERS

Plants that glow in the dark have been developed

through gene-splicing, in which light-producing
bacteria from the mouths of fish are introduced to
cabbage, carrots and potatoes.
Tlie National Enquirer

M o r e o f t e n t h a n n o t h e s t o p s a t t h e h e a d r i g t o lig
his p i p e
a n d try to regain
his c o m p o s u r e . T h e p r i c e o f c a u l i f l o w e r s
has g o n e d o w n
t w o w e e k s i n a r o w o n t h e Belfast m a r k e t .

F r o m here w e can just m a k e out

a p l a t o o n of L i g h t
Infantry g o i n g d o w n
the road to the a c c o m p a n i m e n t of a p i p e -
b a n d . T h e s u n glints o n t h e i r s i l v e r -
buttoned jerkins.

M y uncle, Patrick Regan,

has b e e n l e a n i n g against t h e m u d - g u a r d
o f the lorry. H e levers
o p e n the b o n n e t and tinkers w i t h a light
w r e n c h at the hose-pipe
that's always g o i n g d o w n .

T h e n h e himself goes d o w n
t o b l e e d oil i n t o a j e r r y - c a n .
M y f a t h e r slips t h e p i p e
i n t o his s c o r c h - m a r k e d

»62
b r e a s t p o c k e t a n d a g a i n m a k e s light
of the t r e p a n n e d cauliflowers.

All this as I l i s t e n e d to l o v e r s
repeatedly going d o w n
on each o t h e r in the n e x t r o o m . . . 'light
o f m y life . . . ' i n a m o t e l i n O r e g o n .
All this. M a g r i t t e ' s
pipe

and the pipe-

b o m b . W h i t e Annetts. Gillyflowers.
Margaret,
are y o u grieving? M y father g o i n g d o w n
the primrose path w i t h Patrick Regan.
All g o n e o u t o f t h e w o r l d o f l i g h t .

All g o n e d o w n
the original pipe. A n d the cauliflowers
i n a n u n m a r k e d pit, that w e r e harvested b y their o w n light.
 N U A L A N Í D H O M H N A I L L

Born Lancashire, 1952. G r e w up in N e n a g h , C o u n t y Tipperary, and in

west Kerry Gaeltacht. Educated at University College C o r k .
Spent most of the 1970s in T u r k e y . N o w lives in Dublin.

In a b u n d a n c e and variety Nuala Ni D h o m h n a i l l ' s w o r k surpasses that of

any o t h e r m o d e r n poet in Irish. T h o u g h m u c h of her imagery is drawn
from c o m m u n a l sources such as folklore and Catholic symbology, it
serves a questioning, roguishly h e t e r o d o x p o i n t of view. Earthy,
generous and democratic, Ni D h o m h n a i l l ' s p o e m s are also graceful and
sophisticated. She cites J o h n Berryman as a liberating influence and her
w r i t i n g shares s o m e t h i n g of the American poet's delight in mixing
registers and in juggling high and low cultural references. An unfussy
experimentalism can be seen alike in her e m p l o y m e n t of a range of lyric
and narrative m o d e s and in her approach to the poetic line. W h i l e many
of her p o e m s invite a feminist interpretation, others (deliberately?) resist
it. 'Caitlin' offers a rare excursion into political c o m m e n t a r y , its
uproarious spirit inventively caught in Paul M u l d o o n ' s translation.
As the versions of M o n t a g u e , Hartnett and M u l d o o n testify,
Ni D h o m h n a i l l has b e e n a key figure in c o n t i n u i n g the dialogue
b e t w e e n the poetries of Ireland's t w o languages.
 SCÉALA

Do chuimhnigh si
go deireadh thiar
ar scáil an aingil
sa t e a m p a l l ,
cleitearnach sciathán
ina t i m p e a l l ;
is dúiseacht le d o r d c o l ú r
is stealladh ga g r é i n e
ar fhallai a o l c l o c h
an lá a fuair si an scéala.

E siúd
d'imigh
is n'fheadar ar c h u i m h n i g h r i a m h
ar cad a d ' e a s c a i r
óna cheathrúna,
dhá m h í l e bliain
d ' i o m p a r croise
de d h ó i t e á n is deatach,
de chlampar c h o m h hard
l e spící n a V a t a c á i n e .

O, a mhaighdean rócheansa,
nár chuala trácht ar é i n n e r i a m h
ag teacht c h u g h a t sa d o i r c h e a c h t
cosnocht, déadgheal
is a s h ú i l e lán de r ó g a i r e a c h t .

FÉAR SUAITHINSEACH

N u a i r a b h í s i do s h a g a r t naofa
i lár an A i f r i n n , faoi do r ó b a í c o r c r a
t ' f h a l l a i n g lín, d o stól, d o chasal,
do c h o n n a i c i s m ' a g h a i d h s e ins .in slua
 ANNUNCIATIONS

She r e m e m b e r e d to the very e n d

the angelic vision
in the temple:
the flutter of wings
about her -
noting the noise of doves,
sun-rays raining
o n l i m e - w h i t e walls -
t h e day she got the tidings.

He -
he w e n t away
and perhaps forgot
w h a t g r e w f r o m his l o i n s -
t w o t h o u s a n d years
of c a r r y i n g a cross
t w o t h o u s a n d years
o f s m o k e a n d fire
of r o w s that r e a c h e d a greater span
t h a n all t h e spires o f t h e V a t i c a n .

Remember
o most t e n d e r virgin M a r y
that n e v e r was it k n o w n
that a m a n c a m e to y o u
in the darkness alone,
his feet b a r e , his t e e t h w h i t e
a n d r o g u e r y s w e l l i n g i n his e y e s .

translated by Michael Hartnett

MIRACULOUS GRASS

T h e r e you were in your purple vestments

h a l f - w a y t h r o u g h t h e Mass, a n o r d a i n e d priest
u n d e r y o u r l i n e n alb a n d c h a s u b l e a n d s t o l e :
a n d w h e n y o u saw my face in t h e c r o w d
a b h í ag teacht c h u n comaoineach chughat
is thit uait an abhlainn b h e a n n a i t h e .

M i s e , n í d ú r t a o n n i ina t h a o b h .
B h í náire o r m .
B h i glas a r m o b h é a l .
A c h fós do luigh sé ar mo chroi
m a r d h e a l g l á i b e , g u r d h e i n s é sli
d ó f h é i n istigh i m a e i s i m lár
g u r d h ó b a i r g o b h f a i g h i n n bás d á b h a r r .

N i fada n ó g u r t h i t e a s ' o n l e a b a i d h ;
o i d e a s a i leighis d o t r i a i l e a d h i n a g c é a d t a i b h ,
d o t h á i n i g c h u g h a m d o c h t ú i r í , sagairt i s b r á i t h r e
i s n ' f h é a d a d a r m é a t h a b h a i r t c h u n sláinte
a c h t h u g a d a r suas i s e i l b h b h á i s m é .

Is t é i g í a m a c h , a fheara,
t u g a í g l i b h r á m h a i n n is speala
c o r r á i n , grafáin is sluaiste.
Réabaíg an seanafhothrach,
bearraig na sceacha, glanaig an luifearnach,
a n slámas fáis, a n b r u s , a n a i n n i s e
a fhás a r t h a l a m h ban m o t h u b a i s t e .

I s ins a n i o n a d i n a r t h i t
a n c h o m a o i n e naofa f é a c h g o m b e i d h
i lár an b h i o r l a m a i s istigh
toirtín d'fhéar suaithinseach.

T a g a d h a n sagart i s l e n a m h é i r e a n n a
b e i r e a d h s é g o h a i c l i a r a n g c o m a o i n e naofa
is tugtar c h u g h a m i, ar mo theanga
leáfaidh si, is é i r e o d a n i a r sa leaba
c h o m h slán folláin is a b h i o s is mé i mo l e a n b h .
for H o l y C o m m u n i o n
t h e c o n s e c r a t e d h o s t fell f r o m y o u r fingers.

I felt s h a m e , I n e v e r
mentioned it once,
m y lips w e r e sealed.
B u t still i t l u r k e d i n m y h e a r t
like a t h o r n u n d e r m u d , a n d i t
w o r k e d itself i n s o d e e p a n d s h e e r
it nearly killed m e .

N e x t t h i n g t h e n , I w a s laid u p i n b e d .
Consultants came in their hundreds,
d o c t o r s a n d b r o t h e r s a n d priests,
b u t I baffled t h e m all: I w a s
i n c u r a b l e , t h e y left m e for d e a d .

So out y o u go, m e n ,
o u t w i t h the spades and scythes,
the h o o k s and shovels and hoes.
Tackle the rubble,
c u t b a c k t h e b u s h e s , clear off t h e r u b b i s h ,
t h e s a p p y g r o w t h , t h e w h o l e straggle a n d m e s s
t h a t infests m y g r e e n u n f o r t u n a t e field.

A n d t h e r e w h e r e t h e s a c r e d w a f e r fell
y o u will d i s c o v e r
in the middle of the shooting weeds
a cl imp of m i r a c u l o u s grass.

T h e pncsi will have t o c o m e t h e n

w i t h his d e l i c a t e fingers, a n d lift t h e h o s t
and bring it to me and put it on my t o n g u e .
W h e r e i t will m e l t , a n d I will rise i n t h e b e d
as fit a n d w e l l as t h e y o u n g s t e r I u s e d to b e .

translated by Seamus Heaney

 AN BHABOG BHRISTE

A b h á b ó i g í n b h r i s t e ins an t o b a r ,
caite i s t e a c h a g l e a n b h a r b h o g s h o d a r
a n u a s le f a n a i d h , isteach faoi c h ó t a í a m h á t h a r .
Ghlac sé p r e a b in uaigneas an chlapsholais
n u a i r a l é i m c a i p í n í n a b p ú c a í peill c h u n a b h é i l ,
nuair a c h r o m na méaracáin a g c e a n n a i b h ina t h r e o
is n u a i r a c h u a l a sé uaill c h i ú i n ón g c e a n n cait ins an dair.
Ba dhóbair nó go dtitfeadh an t - a n a m beag as nuair a ghaibh
e a s ó g t h a r b r a i d i s p a t a i r e c o i n i n aici ina b é a l ,
n a p u t ó g a a r sileadh leis a r m a i d a n bhaill
is n u a i r a d h ' e i t i l an s c i a t h á n l e a t h a i r ins an spéir.

T h e i t h sé go g l ó r a c h is r i a m h ó s h i n
t á n n tú m a r fhinné síoraí ar an g h o i n
on t s a i g h e a d a b h u a i l a c h l u a i s ; b á i t e sa láib
t ' f h i a r s h ú i l p h l a i s t e a c h oscailte d e l o
is d ' o í c h e , c h í o n n tú an m a d r a r u a is a hál
ag teacht go bruach na féithe raithni taobh lena bpluais
i s iad a g o l a sáith; t a g a n n a n b r o c c h o m h m a i t h a n n
is n i o n n a lapaí; s á n n sé a s h o e san u i s c e is lá
a n p h á t r ú i n t a g a n n n a d a o i n e i s c a s a n n siad s e a c h t n - u a i r e
a r deiseal; l e g a c h c a s a d h c a i t h e a n n siad c l o c h san u i s c e .

T i t e a n n na clocha beaga seo anuas ort.

T i t e a n n , leis, n a c n ó n n a ó n g c r a n n coill atá a r d h e i s
a n t o b a i r i s é i r e o i r r e a m h a r i s feasach m a r b h r e a c
beannaithe sa draoib. Tiocfaidh an spideog b h r o i n n d e a r g
de m h u i n t i r Shúilleabháin is lena heireabaillin
déanfaidh si leacht meala de uisci uachtair an tobair
i s l e a c h t fola d e n í o c h t a r , f ó s n i b h e i d h c o r r a i asat.
T a o i t e a n n t a i t h e g o s í o r a í ins a n láib, d o m h u i n e á l t a c h t a i t h e
l e s r e a n g a n n a lobelia. C h i m d o m h í l í a g s t á n a d h o r m
g a n tlás as g a c h p o l l s n á m h a , as g a c h l o c h á n , O p h e l i a .

wo
 T H E BROKEN DOLL

0 little b r o k e n d o l l , d r o p p e d i n t h e w e l l ,
t h r o w n aside b y a c h i l d , s c a m p e r i n g d o w n h i l l
t o h i d e u n d e r t h e skirts o f his m o t h e r !
I n twilight's q u i e t h e t o o k s u d d e n fright
a s t o a d s t o o l caps s n a t c h e d a t his t o n g u e ,
f o x g l o v e s c r o o k e d t h e i r fingers a t h i m
a n d f r o m t h e o a k , h e h e a r d t h e o w l ' s l o w call.
H i s little h e a r t a l m o s t s t o p p e d w h e n a w e a s e l
w e n t b y , w i t h a fat y o u n g r a b b i t i n its j a w s ,
l o o s e g u t s s p i l l i n g o v e r t h e grass w h i l e
a b a t w i n g f l i c k e d across t h e e v e n i n g sky.

He r u s h e d a w a y so noisily and e v e r since

y o u a r e a l a s t i n g w i t n e s s t o t h e fairy a r r o w
t h a t s t a b b e d his ear; s t u c k i n t h e m u d
y o u r plastic e y e s s q u i n n y o p e n f r o m m o r n i n g
t o n i g h t : y o u see t h e v i x e n a n d h e r b r o o d
s t e a l i n g u p t o lap t h e f e r n y s w a m p h o l e
near their den, the badger loping to wash
his p a w s , s n u f f w a t e r w i t h his s n o u t . O n
P a t t e r n days p e o p l e p a r a d e s e v e n c l o c k w i s e
r o u n d s ; at every turn, t h r o w i n g in a stone.

T h o s e small s t o n e s rain d o w n o n y o u .
T h e nuts from the hazel tree that g r o w s
t o t h e r i g h t o f t h e w e l l also d r o p d o w n :
y o u will g r o w w i s e r t h a n a n y b l e s s e d t r o u t
i n this o o z e ! T h e r e d b r e a s t e d r o b i n
o f t h e Sullivans will c o m e t o transform
t h e surface t o h o n e y w i t h h e r q u i c k tail,
churn the depths to blood, but you don't m o v e .
B e m i r e d , y o u r n e c k strangled w i t h lobelias,
1 see y o u r p a l l o r s t a r i n g s t a r k l y b a c k a t m e
from every s w i m m i n g hole, from every pool, Ophelia.

translated by John Montague

S11
 FÁILTE BHÉAL NA SIONNA D O N IASC

Léim an bhradáin
Sa d o i r c h e a c h t
Lann lom
Sciath airgid,
M i s e atá fáiltiúil, l í o n t a c h
Sleamhain,
Lán d'fheamnach,
G o caise c i ú i n
G o heireaball eascon.

Bia ar fad
Is ea an t-iasc s e o
Gan puinn cnámh
Gan puinn putóg
Fiche punt teann
D e m h e a t á i n iata
Dírithe
Ar a n e a d sa c h a o n a c h n é a t a .

Is s e i n i m s e o i t h í n
D o m o leannán
T o n n ar thonn
Leathrann ar leathrann,
M o t h i n e g h e a l á i n m a r b h a i r l í n t h í o s faoi
M o r o g h a a t h o g h a s féin ó n iasacht.

AN BHEAN MHÍDHÍLIS

D o p h i o c s é suas m é
ag an gcúntúirt
is tar éis b e a g á i n í n c a i n t e
do thairg d e o c h d o m
nár eitíos uaidh
i s d o s h u í o m a i r síos
ag comhrá.

»72
THE S H A N N O N ESTUARY WELCOMES THE FISH

T h e salmon's leap
In t h e d a r k n e s s -
Bare blade
Silver s h i e l d ;
And me welcoming, net-
D r a p e d and slippery
Full o f s e a w e e d
Of quiet eddies
A n d eel-tails.

All m e a t
Is this fish
Almost nothing of bone
Less o f e n t r a i l
T w e n t y packed pounds
Of tensed muscle
Straining
T o w a r d s its n e s t a m o n g t h e n e a t m o s s e s .

A n d I sing a lullaby
T o m y darling
Wave on wave
V e r s e after v e r s e ,
My phosphorescence a sheet beneath him
M y c h o s e n o n e , d r a w n f r o m afar.

translated by Patrick Crotty

T H E UNFAITHFUL WIFE

H e started c o m i n g o n t o m e
at the spirit-grocer's warped and w o n k y counter
a n d after a p r e l i m i n a r y s p o t o f b a n t e r
offered t o b u y m e a glass o f p o r t e r ;
I wasn't one to d e m u r
a n d m n o t i m e a t all w e w e r e t a l k i n g
i h e b i n d leg <>ll a d o n k e y

»73
C h u a m a i r ó d h e o c h go deoch
is ó joke go joke
i s d o b h í o s - s a sna t r i t h i aige
a c h d á m h é i d a b h í o s ólta
n í d ú r t leis g o r a b h a s p ó s t a .

D ú i r t s é g o r a i b h carr a i g e
is ar t h e a s t a i g h s i o b a b h a i l e u a i m
is ni fada ar an m b ó t h a r
nó gur bhuail an teidhe é.
D o t h a r r a i n g s é i s t e a c h a g lay-by
c h u n g u r b h fhusaide mé a p h ó g a d h .
B h í málaí plaisteacha ar na sceacha
is b r u s c a r ag g a b h á i l t lastuas d ó i b h
is n u a i r a l e a g sé a l á m h i d i r mo c h e a t h r ú n a
n i d ú r t leis g o r a b h a s p ó s t a .

B h í sé cleachtaithe deaslámhach
a g oscailt c h n a i p í í o c h t a i r m o g h ú n a ,
a g lapadáil g o b a r r m o s t o c a i
is an c n e a s b o g os a g c i o n n s a n
is n u a i r a b h r a i t h sé
nach raibh bríste o r m
n a c h air a t h á i n i g g i ú m a r
i s c é t h ó g f a d h o r m a g a n n ó i m é a d sin
n á d ú r t leis g o r a b h a s p ó s t a .

Do bhain sé do a threabhsar
leis an é i r í a b h u a i l air
i s d o s h l e a m h n a i g h sail i m s h u í o c h á n s a
i s d o t h a r r a i n g s é a n u a s air m é
is n u a i r a s h u i o s sios air go c ú r a m a c h
is g u r m h a r c a i o s t h a r an s p r i o c é
b a é a n c h l o c h b a shia i m p h a i d r i n
a rá leis go r a b h a s p ó s t a .

B h í mus úr a cholainne
m a r g h a i r d í n i n d i a i d h báistí
is b h i a c h r a i c e a n n c h o m h slim
c h o m h s í o d ú i l sin l e m c h n e a s féin
a g u s is m ó r an abairt sin

wi
A q u i c k s u c c e s s i o n o f s n o r t s a n d snifters
a n d his r e l e n t l e s s r e p a r t e e
h a d m e s p l i t t i n g m y sides w i t h l a u g h t e r .
H o w e v e r m u c h the drink had loosened my tong
I n e v e r let on I w a s m a r r i e d .

H e w o u l d ask i f h e c o u l d l e a v e m e h o m e
i n his f a m o u s m o t o r i n g - c a r ,
t h o u g h w e h a d n ' t g o n e v e r y far d o w n t h a t r o a d
w h e n he was o v e r t a k e n by desire.
He pulled in to a lay-by
t h e b e t t e r t o h e a p m e w i t h kisses.
T h e r e w e r e plastic bags b u r s t i n g w i t h r u b b i s h
s t a c k e d against t h e b u s h e s .
E v e n a s h e s l i p p e d his h a n d b e t w e e n m y t h i g h s
I n e v e r let on I w a s m a r r i e d .

He was so handy,
t o o , w h e n i t c a m e t o u n b u t t o n i n g m y dress
a n d w o r k i n g his w a y past m y s t o c k i n g - t o p s
t o t h e soft s k i n j u s t a b o v e .
W h e n it dawned on him
that I wasn't w e a r i n g panties
things w e r e definitely on the up a n d up
and it hardly s e e m e d the appropriate m o m e n t
t o let o n I w a s m a r r i e d .

B y this t i m e h e h a d d r o p p e d his t r o u s e r s
a n d , w i t h his p r o p e r little c h a r l i e ,
m a n o e u v r e d himself into the passenger-seat
and d r e w me d o w n until, ever so gingerly,
I might mount.
A s I r o d e h i m past t h e w i n n i n g - p o s t
n o t h i n g could have b e e n further from my m i n d
t h a n t o let o n I w a s m a r r i e d .

F o r his b o d y w a s e v e r y b i t a s s w e e t
as a g a r d e n after a s h o w e r
a n d Ins skin w a s a s s h e e r - d e l i c a t e a s m y o w n
w h i c h is s a y i n g r a t h e r .1 lot
while t l i c w a y lie l o o k e d m c s t i . l i g h t 111 t h e e y e

175
is n u a i r a b h i o s ag t a b h a i r t
pléisiúrtha d h ó
d'fhéach sé sa dá shúil o r m
is fuaireas m o t h ú p a b h a i r is t u i s c e a n a
nár bhraitheas ó táim pósta.

B h í b o l a d h lofa ó s n a c l a t h a c h a
is dramhaíl ag b u n na gcrann
is b h í an p o r t féarach t a o b h l i o m
b r e a c l e cac g a d h a r n a g c o m h a r s a n
is n u a i r a t h r á i g h ar an é i r í air
t h á i n i g aithis is c e a n n faoi air
is nár d h o m h ba m h a i t h an mhaise ansan
n á d ú r t leis g o r a b h a s p ó s t a .

D o b h u a i l e a s suas a n casán
l e m scol a m h r á i n i s l e m p h o r t feadaíle
i s n í o r ligeas o r m l e h é i n n e
a n e a c h t r a a b h í laistiar d í o m
is má c h a s t a r o r m arís é
i n d i o s c ó nó i d t e a c h t á b h a i r n e
ar ghrá oinigh nó réitigh
n í a d m h ó d r i a m h b h e i t h pósta.

A n n d é a n f ás a?

CEIST NA TEANGAN

Cuirim mo dhóchas ar snámh

i mbáidín teangan
faoi m a r a leagfá n a í o n á n
i gcliabhán
a b h e a d h fite fuaite
d e d h u i l l e o g a feileastraim
is b i t i ú m a n a g u s p i c
b h e i t h c u i m i l t e lena t h ó i n
as he t o o k such great delight
gave me a sense of p o w e r a n d t h e k i n d of insight
I'd n o t had since I was married.

T h e r e w a s this a l l - p e r v a s i v e s m e l l
from t h e refuse-sacks lying u n d e r the h e d g e
w h i l e t h e g r e e n , grassy s l o p e b e y o n d
was littered w i t h dog-shit.
N o w , as the g r o u n d s w e l l of passion
began to subside,
he himself had a h a n g - d o g , coy expression
that m a d e me think it was just as well
I n e v e r let on I w a s m a r r i e d .

As I marched up my o w n garden-path
I k i c k e d up a little d u s t .
I burst into song and whistled a t u n e
and v o w e d not to breathe a w o r d
t o a soul a b o u t w h a t I ' d d o n e .
A n d if, b y c h a n c e , I r u n i n t o h i m a g a i n
at a disco or in s o m e s h e b e e n
the only honourable course - the only decent thing -
w o u l d b e t o k e e p faith a n d n o t b e t r a y his t r u s t
by letting on I was married.

D o n ' t you think?

translated by Paul Muldoon

T H E LANGUAGE ISSUE

I place my h o p e on the w a t e r
i n this little b o a t
of the language, the way a b o d y might put
an infant

in a b a s k e t of i n t e r t w i n e d
iris leaves,
us underside proofed
w i t h b i t u m e n a n d pit< I).
 a n s a n é a l e a g a d h síos
i m e a s e na n g i o l c a c h
is c o i g e a l na m b a n si
le taobh na h a b h a n n ,
féachaint n'fheadaraís
cá dtabharfaidh an sruth é,
f é a c h a i n t , dála M h a o i s e ,
an bhfóirfidh iníon Fharoinn?

CAITLÍN

Ní fhéadfá í a t h a b h a i r t in a o n áit leat,

do t h a b h a r f a d h sí n á i r e is aithis d u i t .
D í r e a c h t o i s c g o r a i b h s í a n - m h ó r ina vamp
t h i a r ins na fichidí, is g u r d h a m h a s si an Searlastan
l e t o n n t r a c h a m é i r í n e a c h a ina g r u a i g d h u a l a c h t h r i l s e á n a c h ;
g u r p h a b h s a e gléigeal í t h i a r i n a o i d é a g sé d é a g ,
g o b h f a c t h a s f o r n o c h t i g C o n n a c h t a í , m a r áille n a h á i l l e ,
i s a g taisteal b h ó i t h r e n a M u m h a n , m a r g h i l e n a g i l e ;
go raibh sí b e o b o c h t , gan locht,
a p í o b m a r a n eala, a g t e a c h t t a o b h leis a n d t o i n n
is a h é a d a n m a r s h n e a c h t a ,

n í t h é a n n a o n stad u i r t h i a c h a g m a í o m h
as na s e a n l a e t h a n t a , n u a i r a b h í o d h si ag i o n s a í
na d ú t h a í is an d r ú c h t ar a b r ó g a ,
maidin D o m h n a i g h is í ag dul go hEochaill
nó ar an m b ó t h a r c o t h r o m idir C o r c a i g h agus D ú g h l a s .
N a r u d a i i o n t a c h a a d ú i r t a n P a o r a c h fuithi
is é m a r m h a o r ar an l o i n g . Is d ú i r t d a o i n e eile
go m b e a d h an É i r n e ina tuilte tréana, is go réabfaí
c n o i c . M u r a b i o n a n n is anois n u a i r ati si ina baintreach tréith
g o r a i b h s i a n t r á t h san i n a m a i g h d e a n m h ó m h a r , c h a o i n , shéi
is d i r e a c h a d ó t h a i n céille aici c h u n f a n a c h t i g c ó n a í
a r a n d t a o b h thall d e n d t e o r a i n n ina m b í t e a r d e s h i o r .
 t h e n set t h e w h o l e t h i n g d o w n a m i d s t
the sedge
and bulrushes by the edge
of a river

only to have it borne hither and thither,

not knowing where it might end up;
in the lap, perhaps,
of some Pharaoh's daughter.

translated by Paid Muldoon

CATHLEEN

Y o u c a n ' t t a k e h e r o u t for a n i g h t o n t h e t o w n
w i t h o u t her either s h o w i n g you up or badly letting you d o w n
just because she m a d e the T w e n t i e s roar
w i t h her Black and T a n B o t t o m - O T e r p s i c h o r e -
and her hair in a p e r m a n e n t w a v e ;
j u s t b e c a u s e s h e w a s a lily g r a v e
i n n i n e t e e n s i x t e e n ; j u s t b e c a u s e she o n c e w a s s p o t t e d
quite naked in C a n n o u g h t , of beauties most beautied,
or t r a m p i n g the roads of M o o n s t a r e , brightest of the bright;
just because she was p o o r , w i t h o u t b l e m i s h or blight,
high-stepping it by the ocean with her famous swan's p r o w
a n d a fresh fall o f s n o w o n h e r b r o a d e s t o f b r o a d b r o w s -

b e c a u s e o f all t h a t s h e n e v e r s t o p s b e n d i n g y o u r e a r
a b o u t t h e g o o d o l d days o f y o r e
w h e n she crept t h r o u g h t h e c o u n t r y i n h e r d e w y high heels
o f a S u n d a y m o r n i n g , say, o n t h e r o a d t o Y o u g h a l
o r that level stretch b e t w e e n C o r k and D o u g l a s .
T h e r e was y o u r m a n P o w e r ' s r i d i c u l o u s
suggestion w h e n h e was t h e ship's captain, n o t t o speak
of the Erne running red with abundance and mountain-peaks
laid l o w . S h e w h o i s n o w a w i d o w e d o l d w o m a n
was a m o d e s t m a i d e n , m e e k a n d m i l d , b u t w i t h e n o u g h
gumption
a t least t o k e e p t o h e i o w n
side ol i h e g h o s t l y d e m a r c a t i o n , t h e e t e r n a l buffet z o n e
B a d h ó i g h leat l e h é i s t e a c h t léi n á r c h u a l a
sí riamh gur b i n n béal ina thost, is nach m b í o n n
i n a o n n í a c h seal, g o g c r í o n n a n n a n tslat l e h a o i s
is fiú dá m b a d h ó i g h le gach spreasán an uair úd
g o m b a l e a n n á n aige féin í , g o b h f u i l n a l a e t h a n t a san t h a r t .
C u i r f i d h m é geall síos leat n á r c h u a l a s í leis
m a r t á s é d e m h ó r b h u a aici a g u s d e d h e i s
g a n a o n ní a c h l o i s i n t a c h an r u d a ' r i ú n a í o n n í féin.
T á m i l a r a n ó g b h e a n aici, d a r léi, a g u s r ó s b r e á
i n a h é a d a n . Is í an s a m p l a í is fearr ar m ' a i t h n e
de bhodhaire Uí Laoghaire.

\H()
F o r y o u ' d t h i n k t o listen t o h e r s h e ' d n e v e r heard
t h a t d i s c r e t i o n i s t h e b e t t e r p a r t , t h a t o u r n a m e s are w r i t
i n w a t e r , t h a t t h e g r e e n e s t stick will w i z e n :
even if every slubberdegullion o n c e had a dream-vision
i n w h i c h s h e a p p e a r e d a s his o w n t r u e l o v e r ,
t h o s e days are j u s t a s t r u l y o v e r .
A n d I bet O l d G u m m y Granny
has t a k e n n o n e o f this o n b o a r d b e c a u s e o f h e r u n c a n n y
knack of hearing only w h a t confirms
h e r o w n sense o f herself, h e r h o n e y - n u b i l e f o r m
and the red nose, p r o u d rose or c a n k e r
t u c k e d b e h i n d h e r ear, i n t h e h e a d - b a n d o f h e r b l i n k e r s .

translated by Paid Muldoon

mi
 M A T T H E W S W E E N E Y

B o r n Donegal, 1952. Lives in L o n d o n , w h e r e he is currently w r i t e r - i n -

residence at the South Bank C e n t r e . Has published a well-received
b o o k of children's verse, The Flying Spring Onion (1992).

S w e e n e y is a miniaturist of estrangement. T h e account of the last

hours of a victim of the King's Cross fire in ' T u b e Ride to Martha's'
is typical of his brief, d i s c o m m o d i n g tales of c o n t e m p o r a r y
urban life and death.

T O T H E BUILDING TRADE

Here's to the building trade,

t o t h e r e n o v a t i o n s a n d facelifts,
t h e fake V i c t o r i a n facades;
to the dust-muffled din
that stops on Sundays;
t o t h e m e n t h a t m a k e it,
especially o n e f r o m D a l s t o n
w h o , after a p i n t o r t w o
a n d a p l o u g h m a n ' s , fell -
b u t t h e scaffolding s t a y e d u p
till t h e flats w e r e c l e a n .
H e r e ' s to the offduty cabbie
i n t h e first-floor k i t c h e n
w h o saw h i m splatter
on the pavement; to the mate
w i t h t h e t r o w e l , staring d o w n ,
his q u e s t i o n u n a n s w e r e d ;
to the rent increase
a n d t h e officer w h o set it.
Here's to the young w i d o w
w h o s e h o m e ' s i n this c i t y
w h e r e m i g r a n t scaffolding,
w h e r e v e r she m o v e s ,
will find h e r walls s o m e t i m e .

»2
 TUBE RIDE TO MARTHA'S

B e f o r e t h e sirens s t a r t e d , h e w a s late -
late for a d i n n e r at his w o m a n ' s ,
b u t h e ' d m a n a g e d t o find a g o o d R i o j a
a n d a n e x c e l l e n t e x c u s e : his cat
h a d b u r n e d h e r tail i n t h e t o a s t e r
(this w a s t r u e ) a n d h e ' d b r o u g h t h e r
to the vet and back in a cab.
He t h o u g h t a b o u t a third cab to M a r t h a ' s
b u t funds w e r e l o w , a n d the t u b e ride
was four stops, a half h o u r w i t h t h e walks.
H e h a d a t h r i l l e r i n his c a r r i e r - b a g ,
a Ross M c D o n a l d , l o n g o u t of print,
w h i c h h e o p e n e d o n t h e escalator, w a n t i n g
i t finished t o n i g h t . W h e n t h e s m o k e c a m e
h e h a r d l y n o t i c e d , till t h e b l a c k g u a r d
tried to hustle e v e r y o n e upstairs,
a n d trains r u s h e d by, w i t h o u t s t o p p i n g ,
and people pushed and screamed.
As the s m o k e got thicker and blacker
w i t h f l a m e s g r o w i n g fast, h e r e a l i s e d
it was over, almost before it had b e g u n .
 M A U R I C E R I O R D A N

B o r n Lisgoold, C o u n t y C o r k , 1953. Educated at St C o l m a n ' s College,

F e r m o y , University College C o r k and M c M a s t e r University, O n t a r i o .
T a u g h t briefly at U C C . Lives in L o n d o n as a freelance writer.

' T h e m a t u r e paradigm of a g o o d p o e m for me w o u l d be s o m e t h i n g like

R o b e r t Frost's " B i r c h e s " - a spoken language w h i c h seems simpler than
it actually is.' Riordan's unsentimental narratives of shadow-lives parallel
to those we actually live share s o m e t h i n g of the astutely colloquial
quality he admires in Frost. Again like those of the A m e r i c a n poet, his
lyrics c o m m u n i c a t e a sense of a lurking grimness in the everyday.

MILK

This n o t e b o o k in which he used to sketch

h a s , o n its e x p e n s i v e - l o o k i n g b l a c k c o v e r ,

a s p r i n k l e o f w h i t i s h stains: o f t h e s o r t
sure to detain the u n b o r n biographer.

C o u l d they be the miniaturist's impression

o f t h e n o r t h e r n s k y , his S t a r r y N i g h t ?

O r m i g h t l a b - t e s t s p o i n t t o s o m e t h i n g else?
T h a t t h e y a r e , i n fact, h u m a n m i l k - s t a i n s ,

t h e effect o f lactic a c i d o n c h e a p s k i n ,
a n d d a t e f r o m five y e a r s e a r l i e r -

a t i m e w h e n his w i f e ' s h y p e r a c t i v e g l a n d s
u s e d t o l o b m i l k r i g h t across t h e r o o m

to the wing-chair in which he dozed,

t h e s k e t c h b o o k (it s e e m s ) c l o s e d i n his h a n d s .

T h o u g h h e felt its l i g h t lash o n his skin

m a n y a n i g h t , h e n e v e r t o o k t o that m i l k

Ui i
 a n d w i s h e d o n l y for a w i d e r r o o m .
A failure o f i m a g i n a t i o n , y o u m i g h t c l a i m ,

though it could be he needed m o r e

of h u m a n kindness from that source then.

Y o u c o u l d e v e n say t h a t t h e m i l k s t o p p e d ,
b u t the acid d i d n ' t . T h a t he replied in kind.

A n d thus it began: the pointless unstoppable g a m e

across a r o o m , i n w h i c h a c h i l d g r e w

less small, a n d b e c a m e t h e m e s m e r i z e d u m p i r e
looking n o w one way, n o w the other.

TIME O U T

Such is modern life

Stephen D o b y n s

T h e t w o y o u n g o n e s fed, bathed, zippered, read to and sung to.

Asleep.
T i m e n o w t o s t r e t c h o n t h e sofa. T i m e for a c i g a r e t t e .
W h e n h e realizes h e ' s o u t . C l e a n o u t o f s m o k e s .
H e grabs a fistful o f c o i n s , h e s i t a t e s t o listen b e f o r e
P u l l i n g t h e d o o r softly t o . T h e n sprints for t h e c o r n e r s h o p .

W h e n h e trips o n a s h o e l a c e , h e a d first i n t o t h e p a t h o f a
U - t u r n i n g cab.
T h e s c r e e c h o f b r a k e s i s c o t e r m i n o u s w i t h his s c r e a m .
T h e Somalian shopkeeper, w h o s u m m o n s the ambulance, k n o w s
t h e face,
B u t t h e n a m e o r address? N o - j u s t s o m e o n e h e r e m e m b e r s
P o p p i n g i n , a l w a y s w i t h k i d s (this h e d o e s n ' t say).

C a s u a l t y i s a t full s t r e t c h a n d t h e w h i t e t h i r t y i s h m a l e ,
U n s h a v e n , with b r o k e n runners, is g o i n g n o w h e r e . Is cleanly
dead.
A r o u n d m i d n i g h t a n o r d e r l y r u m m a g e s his p o c k e t s : ,/J2.50 i n
change,
A l a t c h k e y , t w o c h e s t n u t s , o n e m i t t e n , scraps o f p a p e r ,
S o m e w r i t t e n o n , b u t n o wallet, cards, licence, o r address b o o k .

A r o u n d 2 a.m. he's p u t on ice, w i t h a n u m b e r e d tag.

A r o u n d 3 a . m . a c h i l d w a k e s , cries, t h e n w a i l s for a t t e n t i o n .
B u t after t e n m i n u t e s , u n u s u a l l y , g o e s b a c k t o s l e e p .
U n u s u a l l y his t w i n sleeps o n u n d i s t u r b e d till six o ' c l o c k ,
W h e n t h e y b o t h w a k e t o g e t h e r , k i c k i n g , c a l l i n g o u t dada, dada

H a p p i l y : w e l l slept, still d r y , c r o o n i n g a n d p r e t e n d - r e a d i n g i n t h e
half-light. •
T h e n o n e slides t o t h e f l o o r , t o d d l e s t o t h e m a s t e r b e d r o o m
A n d , s e e i n g t h e e m p t y ( u n m a d e ) b e d , t o d d l e s t o w a r d s t h e stairs,
N o w f o l l o w e d b y t h e o t h e r , less stable, w h o s t u m b l e s h a l f w a y
down
A n d b o t h roll t h e last five s t e p s t o t h e b o t t o m , s c r e a m i n g .

T o b e d i s t r a c t e d b y t h e p o s t p l o p p i n g o n t o t h e m a t : all j u n k ,
T h e r e f o r e b u l k y , c o l o u r f u l , glossy, illicit. T i m e slips.
N i n e o'clock: h u n g r y , soiled, sensing oddness and absence,
Edgy together and w h i m p e r i n g n o w , w h e n they discover the TV
Still o n , its 1 7 - c h a n n e l c o n s o l e alive t o t h e i r t o u c h .

T h e Italian P a r l i a m e n t , s u m o w r e s t l i n g , t h e A u s t r i a n G r a n d P r i x ,
O p e r a , t h e P a r c e l F o r c e ad, s e e t h e m t h r o u g h t o h a l f past n i n e
W h e n distress t a k e s h o l d a n d t h e solid s t e r e o p h o n i c s c r e a m i n g
begins,
R e l e n t l e s s a n d shrill e n o u g h t o p e n e t r a t e t h e a t t e n t i o n
Of the retired French pharmacist next door

W h o at, say t e n o ' c l o c k , p o k e s a b r o o m s t i c k t h r o u g h h e r r e a r

window
T o r a t t l e t h e i r s : m a g i c a l s i l e n c i n g effect, l a s t i n g j u s t s o l o n g
A s i t t a k e s f o r t h e e l d e r l y w o m a n t o d r a w u p h e r s h o p p i n g list,
To retrieve t w o tenners from the ice-compartment, dead-lock
h e r front doors,
Shake her h e a d at the s u n n i n g milk, and m a k e it to the bus.
Let us j u m p then to 10 p.m., to the nightmare d e n o u e m e n t . . .
N o , let u s d u c k r i g h t n o w o u t o f this s t o r y , for s u c h i t is:
A n i d l e , d a y - b e d , H i t c h c o c k i a n fantasy ( t h o u g h p r o m p t e d b y a
news item,
A c l o c k w o r k s c e n a r i o : i t w a s five days b e f o r e t h a t t h r e e - y e a r - o l d
W a s d i s c o v e r e d b e s i d e t h e c o r p s e o f his Irish d a d i n N o r t h o l t ) .

L e t u s g e t this d a d i n a n d o u t o f t h e s h o p , safely across t h e s t r e e t ,

Safely i n d o o r s a g a i n , less a c o u p l e o f q u i d , p l u s t h e listings m a g s
A n d t e n Silk C u t , b a c k o n b o a r d t h e sofa: r e p r i e v e d , r e l e a s e d ,
relaxed,
T h i n k i n g it's t i m e for n e w s n e a k e r s , for a b e a r d t r i m , for a n
overall
R e t h i n k i n the hair d e p a r t m e n t . T i m e m a y b e t o m o v e o n from
t h e fags.

A W O R D FROM T H E LOKI

T h e L o k i t o n g u e d o e s n o t l e n d itself
t o d e s c r i p t i o n a l o n g classical l i n e s .
C o n s i d e r t h e v o w e l s : t h e r e are just four,
including o n e p r o d u c e d by inspiration
(i.e. i n d r a w n b r e a t h ) , w h i c h t h e n r e q u i r e s
a n a c r o b a t i c feat o f p r o j e c t i o n
t o e n g a g e w i t h its t r o u p e o f c o n s o n a n t s .
T h e skilled l i n g u i s t c a n m a n a g e , a t b e s t ,
a sort of t a t t o o ; w h e r e a s t h e L o k i
form s o u n d s of balletic exactness.
C o n s i d e r f u r t h e r : t h a t t h e t r i b e has e v o l v e d
this s t r e n u o u s m e a n s o f a r t i c u l a t i o n
for o n e w o r d , a d e f e c t i v e v e r b
used in o n e m o o d only, the optative.

N o semantic equivalent can b e found

in English, n o r within I n d o - E u r o p e a n .
L o o s e l y , t h e w o r d m i g h t be g l o s s e d as to joke,
p r o v i d e d w e c i t e several o t h e r usages,
su< h as to rccovct from snakebite;
to fish with the ancestors',

187
to die at home in the village, survived
by all of one's sons and grandsons.
It is p r o h i b i t e d in daily s p e e c h ,
and the Loki, a moderate people
w h o abjure physical p u n i s h m e n t s ,
a r e s e v e r e i n e n f o r c i n g this t a b o o ,
s i n c e all o f f e n d e r s , o f w h a t e v e r a g e
o r status, are h a n d e d o v e r t o mouri

- s e n t , in effect, to a g r u e s o m e d e a t h :
for t h e v i c t i m is p u t on b o a r d a raft,
given a g o u r d of d r i n k i n g w a t e r , a knife,
and one of those raucous owl-faced
monkeys as companion, then towed
t o m i d s t r e a m a n d set l o o s e o n t h e c u r r e n t .
Y e t the t a b o o is relaxed at so-called
j o k e parties': i m p r o m p t u celebrations
that can be p r o v o k e d by multiple births
or by an o u t - o f - s e a s o n catch of bluefish.
T h e y are o c c a s i o n s for s t o r y - t e l l i n g
a n d p o e t r y , a n d s e r v e a useful e n d
i n a l l o w i n g t h e y o u n g t o l e a r n this v e r b
a n d t o p e r f e c t its e x a c t d e l i v e r y .

For the w o r d is held to have c o m e d o w n

f r o m t h e a n c e s t r a l g o d s , t o b e t h e i r o n e gift.
A n d its o c c u l t use i s specific: t o w a r d off
the L o o r d h u , a cannibalistic h o r d e ,
b e l i e v e d t o r o a m t h e i n t e r i o r forest,
w h o are r e p u t e d t o l i k e t h e i r m e a t
fresh a n d r a w , t o k e e p c h i l d r e n i n l i e u o f p i g s ,
a n d to treat eye a n d t o n g u e as delicacies.
T h e proximity of danger is heralded
by a d e s p o n d e n c y that seems to strike
w i t h o u t visible c a u s e b u t w h i c h effects
a swift c h a n g e a m o n g a p e o p l e b y n a t u r e
brave a n d practical, b r i n g i n g to a stop
i n a m a t t e r o f h o u r s all w o r k , p l a y , talk.

A t s u c h crises, t h e villagers a d v a n c e
to t h e r i v e r b a n k a n d , as n i g h t tails.
they climb into t h e trees, there to recite
this v e r b t h r o u g h o u t t h e h o u r s o f d a r k n e s s .
B u t since, i n t h e m e m o r y o f t h e village,
the L o o r d h u have never yet attacked,
o n e has r e a s o n t o d o u b t t h e e x i s t e n c e
of an i m m i n e n t threat to the Loki -
w h o nonetheless continue, in suspense, their chant.
A t o n c e wistful a n d e e r i e , i t p r o d u c e s
this o b s e r v a b l e r e s u l t : t h a t it q u e l l s
the c o m m o t i o n of the g u e n o n monkeys
a n d lulls, w i t h i n its r a n g e , t h e g r e a t forest.

w>
 T H O M A S M C C A R T H Y

Born C a p p o q u i n , C o u n t y Waterford, 1954. Educated at St A n n e ' s

Secondary School, C a p p o q u i n , and University College C o r k .
M e m b e r of International W r i t i n g Program at the University of Iowa,
1 9 7 7 - 8 . W o r k s in City Library, C o r k . M c C a r t h y has published t w o
novels of political life in M u n s t e r , Without Power (1991) and
Asya and Christine (1992).

M c C a r t h y ' s teenage experience as a Fianna Fail activist throws a long

shadow over his w o r k in verse and prose alike. His p o e m s register the
t e d i u m and self-delusion of lower-middle-class rural life in the Republic
while sympathetically observing its impulses towards grace and
generosity. M c C a r t h y ' s lyrics are at their stongest w h e n they resist a
prettifying aestheticism to look directly at unprepossessing realities:
' P e r s e p h o n e , 1978' confronts the trauma of a road disaster the poet
survived, while ' T h e Standing Trains' finds an e m b l e m of declining
political idealism in the railway s h u t d o w n s of the 1960s. ' M r N a b o k o v ' s
M e m o r y ' , a c u n n i n g tessellation of details from the novelist's Speak,
Memory, represents the m o r e literary side of M c C a r t h y ' s sensibility.

STATE FUNERAL

Parnell will never come again, he said.

He's there, all that was mortal of him.
Peace to his ashes.
James J o y c e , Ulysses

T h a t A u g u s t a f t e r n o o n t h e family
G a t h e r e d . T h e r e w a s a n a t i v e déja vu
O f F u n e r a l w h e n w e s e t t l e d against t h e c o u c h
O n o u r s u n b u r n t k n e e s . W e gripped m u g s o f tea
Tightly and soaked the TV spectacle;
T h e boxed ritual in our living-room.

M y father recited prayers o f m e m o r y ,

O f m o n s t e r m e e t i n g s , blazing tar-barrels
Planted outside Free-State homes, the Broy-
Flarriers p u s h i n g t h r o u g h a c r o w d , B l u c s h i r t s ;
 A n d , after t h e w a r , d e V a l e r a ' s w o r d s
M a k i n g Churchill's imperial palette blur.

W h a t I r e m e m b e r is o n e decade of darkness,
A mind-stifling b o r e d o m ; long summers
For blackberry picking and churning cream,
W i n t e r s for s a v i n g t i m b e r o r s e t t i n g lines
A n d snares: n o n e o f t h e j o y s o f h e r e a n d n o w
W i t h its i n s t a n t j a m , i n s t a n t h e a t a n d c r e a m :

I t w a s a l a n d s c a p e for o l d m e n . T o d a y
T h e y l o w e r e d t h e tallest o n e , t i d i e d h i m
A w a y w h i l e his p e o p l e w a t c h e d q u i e t l y .
I n t h e e n d h e h a d r e t r e a t e d t o t h e first d r e a m ,
C a n i n g t r u t h . I t h i n k o f his a u s t e r e g r a n d e u r ;
T a u t sadness, like old h e r o e s he had i m a g i n e d .

MR N A B O K O V ' S MEMORY

F o r m y first p o e m t h e r e are specific i m a g e s

h e r d e d like s c h o o l c h i l d r e n i n t o a neat r o w .
T h e r e is an ear and h u m a n finger h a n g i n g
from the linden tree in the Park n o r t h of
Maria Square and, b e t w e e n there and Morskaya
Street, o t h e r images of defeat. S u c h
as a b l a c k a r t i c l e in a Fascist n e w s p a p e r
b l o w i n g along the footpath, or an old soldier
t h r o w i n g insults a t l o v e r s o u t w a l k i n g .
E v e n t h e schveitsar i n o u r h a l l w a y
s h a r p e n s p e n c i l s for m y f a t h e r ' s m e e t i n g
as if sharpening the guillotine of the future.
T h e r e i s o n l y T a m a r a , w h o arrives w i t h t h e p o e m
as s o m e t h i n g g o o d ; her w a y w a r d hair tied back
w i t h a b o w o f b l a c k silk. H e r n e c k ,
in the l o n g light of s u m m e r , is c o v e r e d
w i t h soft d o w n like t h e b l o o m o n a l m o n d s .
W h e n w i n t e r c o m e s I'll miss s c h o o l t o listen
to her m i n o r , uvular p o e m s , her jokes,
hci s n o r t i n g l a u g h t e t i n S i P e t e r s b u r g m u s e u m s
 I h a v e all this; this l u x u r y o f l o v e ; u n t i l
s h e says: 'a flaw has a p p e a r e d in u s ,
it's t h e strain of w i n t e r s in St P e t e r s b u r g ' -
a n d like a h e r o i n e from a s e c o n d - r a t e
matinee i n N e v s k i S t r e e t s h e steps i n t o t h e w o m b
of the M e t r o to b e c o m e a part of me forever.

So m a n y things m u s t h a p p e n at o n c e in this,
this single chrysalis o f m e m o r y , this p o e m .
W h i l e m y s o n w e e p s b y m y side a t a b o r d e r
c h e c k p o i n t , a caterpillar ascends
t h e stalk of a c a m p a n u l a , a b u t t e r f l y c o m e s to rest
o n t h e leaf o f a t r e e w i t h a n u n f o r g e t t a b l e
n a m e ; a n o l d m a n sighs i n a n o r c h a r d
in the Crimea, an even older housekeeper
loses h e r m i n d a n d t h e k e y s t o o u r k i t c h e n .
A y o u n g s e r v a n t is s h a r p e n i n g t h e b l a d e
o f t h e f u t u r e , w h i l e m y f a t h e r leaps
i n t o t h e p a t h o f a n assassin's b u l l e t
at a b r i e f A u g u s t l e c t u r e in B e r l i n .
All t h e s e t h i n g s m u s t h a p p e n a t o n c e
b e f o r e t h e r a i n s t o r m clears, l e a v i n g o n e
d r o p o f w a t e r p i n n e d d o w n b y its o w n w e i g h t .
W h e n it falls f r o m t h e l i n d e n leaf I shall
run to my m o t h e r , forever waiting forever
w a i t i n g , w i t h m a t e r n a l R u s s i a n tears,
t o listen t o h e r s o n ' s o n e a n d o n l y p o e m .

PERSEPHONE, 1978

T h e late M a r c h m i s t i s a n a n g r y C e r b e r u s ,
sniffing d e b r i s , sniffing t h e helpless
w i t h its m o i s t n o s e s . T h e d e a d are b u n c h e d t o g e t h e r :
a w o m a n decapitated by a flying w h e e l - r i m ,
her daughter screaming 'Help me! Help Mama!'
I crawl through a shattered windscreen
t o taste diesel f u m e s , p u n g e n t s c a t t e r e d grain
f r o m t h e o v e r t u r n e d distillery t r u c k .
Arc-lights go on e v e r y w h e r e although
it's still d a y l i g h t . M y e y e s h u r t . M y a r m s .
My neck is w e t , a b l o o d y mist thickening,
a soft M a r c h d a y . T h e r e ' s b l o o d a n d rain
o n t h e t a r m a c . B o d i e s lie s t o n e - q u i e t
after t h e c a t a p u l t o f s p e e d .
E v e n the injured snore deeply. S o m e will n e v e r
c o m e back, n e v e r g r o w w a r m again.
M y m i n d fills w i t h t h e c o n s t a n t m u t i l a t e d d e a d ,
the Ulster dead, the perennial traffic-accident
o f I r e l a n d . H e r e a r e funerals b e i n g m a d e .
A priest walks a m o n g the w o u n d e d ,
Christian stretcher-bearer, helper
a n d s c a v e n g e r . M y m i n d fills w i t h h a t r e d .
I race before h i m to t h e c o m a t o s e ,
s h o u t i n g ' Y o u ' l l b e fine! J u s t k e e p w a r m ! '
and cover a m o t h e r w i t h my duffle-coat.
It is my will against his,
I w a n t to s h r o u d the w o m a n ' s soul w i t h love,
h e s i t a n t , i m p e r f e c t , b u t this side o f P a r a d i s e .
E v e r y w h e r e is the sound of wailing pain.
A s u r g e o n h u r r i e s past, s w e a t i n g ,
his t a t t e r e d g o w n i s p u r p l e w i t h b l o o d ,
his face a d a r k b l u e narcissus.
I h a v e o n l y w o r d s t o offer, n o t h i n g
like p e t h i d i n e o r t h e oils o f E x t r e m e U n c t i o n .
Beside me t h e w o m a n dies, p e p p e r e d w i t h barley -
p l u c k e d f r o m t h e i n s a n e w o r l d like P e r s e p h o n e .

T H E STANDING TRAINS

. . . and I thought how wonderful to miss

one's connections;
soon I shall miss them
all the time
Louis M a c N e i c e : The Strings arc False

F r o m t h e w i n d o w s of a s t a n d i n g train
you can judge the artwork of o u r p o o r R e p u b l i c .
T h e prominent ruins that make I imeri< k |un< tion
s e e m like I h e s d e n in 1945
and the b e a t e n - u p coaches at M a l l o w Station,
the rusted side-tracks at Charleville,
have t a k e n years o f i n d e p e n d e n t t h o u g h t .
It t a k e s d e c a d e s to d e s t r o y a s y s t e m
of stations. On t h e o t h e r h a n d , a few
well-placed hand-signals can destroy a w h o l e
m o d e o f life, a n e t w o r k o f h a p p i n e s s .
This is our o w n Republic! O M e m o r y ,
O Patria, t h e s h a m e of silenced j u n c t i o n s .
T i m e k n e w w e ' d r i p t h e rails a p a r t , w e ' d sell
emigrant tickets e v e n w h i l e stripping
t h e t i c k e t - o f f i c e b a r e . T h e s t a n d i n g trains
o f t h e f u t u r e w e r e b a c k e d against a w a l l .

T w o hens peck seed from the bright platform,

hens roost in the signal-box.
B i l i n g u a l signs t h a t c a u s e d a d e b a t e i n t h e S e n a t e
h a v e b e e n u n b o l t e d a n d u s e d a s gates:
it's late s u m m e r n o w i n this d e a d s t a t i o n .
W h e n I w a s t w e l v e t h e y u n b o l t e d t h e rails.
N o w there's o n l y t h e ghost o f m y father,
s t a n d i n g b y t h e p a r c e l - s h e d w i t h his g h o s t l y
suitcase. W h e n h e sees m e w a l k i n g t o w a r d s h i m
he b e c o m e s u p s e t . Don't stop here! he cries.
Keep going, keep going! Tliis place is dead.
 I A N D U H I G

Born into Irish family in H a m m e r s m i t h , L o n d o n , 1954. A w o r k e r on

homelessness projects in L o n d o n , Belfast and Yorkshire, he n o w
lives in Leeds.

Seeking out the brutalities b e h i n d the e u p h e m i s m s of history, D u h i g ' s

p o e m s exhibit a B r o w n i n g e s q u e delight in distortion. An author's n o t e
on Tr H e n Iaith A'i C h a n e u o n ' reads: ' T h e title is Welsh and means
" T o the O l d T o n g u e and Its Songs". T h e Irish translates roughly as:
Speak not to me of the foreign prelate/ N o r of his creed with neither
truth nor faith/ For the foundation stone of his t e m p l e / Is the bollocks
of King H e n r y VIII.'

I'R HEN IAITH A'I C H A N E U O N

If the tongue only speak all that the mind knows

There wouldn 't be any neighbours
The Red Book of Hergest

W h e n I g o d o w n t o W a l e s for t h e l o n g b a n k h o l i d a y
t o visit m y w i f e ' s g r a n d f a t h e r w h o i s t e e t o t a l ,
w h o is a non-smoker, w h o does not approve
of anyone w h o is n o t teetotal and a n o n - s m o k e r ,
w h e n I g o d o w n t o W a l e s for t h e l o n g , l o n g b a n k h o l i d a y
w i t h m y s e c o n d w i f e t o visit h e r g r a n d f a t h e r
w h o d e s e r t e d M e t h o d i s m for T h e R e d Flag,
w h o w o n ' t h e a r a w o r d against Stalin,
w h o despite m y oft-professed socialism
s e c r e t l y b e l i e v e s I a m still w i t h t h e P o p e ' s l e g i o n s ,
receiving c o d e d telegrams from the Vatican
specifying the dates, times a n d positions I s h o u l d a d o p t
for p o l i t i c a l a c t i v i t y a n d s e x u a l a c t i v i t y ,
w h o i n his n i n e t i e t h y e a r t o o k against b o x i n g ,
w h i c h was t h e o n l y t h i n g I c o u l d e v e r talk t o h i m a b o u t ,
w h e n I visit m y s e c o n d w i f e ' s s u r v i v i n g g r a n d f a t h e r ,
a n d w h e n h e listens t o t h e football results i n W e l s h
I w i l l sometimes s l i p out t<> the p u b .
I will s o m e t i m e s slip o u t t o t h e p u b
and drink pint u p o n pint of that bilious w h e y
t h e y serve t h e r e , w h e r e the m u z a k will invariably b e
Hie Best of the Rhosllanerchrugog Male Voice Choir
a n d I will g e t t r a p p e d b y s o m e b r a i n d o n o r f r o m u p t h e v a l l e y
w h o will really talk a b o u t ' t h e l a n g u a g e s o s t r o n g a n d s o b e a u t i f
t h a t has g r o w n o u t o f t h e ageless m o u n t a i n s ,
t h a t s p e e c h o f w o n d r o u s b e a u t y t h a t o u r fathers w r o u g h t ' ,
w h o will c h a n t t o m e i n W e l s h his e p i l e p t i c v e r s e s
a b o u t Gruffudd ap Llywellyn and Daffydd ap Llywellyn,
a n d w h o w i l l g i v e m e t w o solid h o u r s o f slaver
b e c a u s e I d o n ' t s p e a k Irish a n d w h o will t h e n b r i n g u p r e l i g i o n ,
t h e n I will tell h i m I k n o w o n e Irish p r a y e r a b o u t a W e l s h k i n g
o n t h a t v e r y s u b j e c t , a n d I w i l l r e c i t e for h i m a s f o l l o w s :
' N á thrácht ar an mhinistéir Ghallda
Ná ar a c h r e i d e i m h gan b h e a n n gan bhri,
M a r ni'l m a r b h u a n - c h l o c h d á t h e a m p u i l l
A c h magairle Annraoi Ri.' 'Beautiful,'
H e w i l l say, a s t h e y all d o , ' I t s o u n d s q u i t e b e a u t i f u l . '

REFORMA AGRARIA

In 1 9 3 6 ,
F a l a n g e o r C a r l i s t priests
showed wounded men,
republicans,
rojoseperatistas,
an extreme unction,
a cristazio l i m p i o ,
a b l o w w i t h t h e crucifix
b e t w e e n the eyes,
a blessed paseo,
t h e l i g h t oil o f t h e g u n
like w a t c h m a k e r ' s oil,
or s u n f l o w e r oil,
ran f r o m t h e L u g e r s ,
ran f r o m B e r e t t a s
d o w n i n t o t h e eyes
of w o u n d e d land-leaguers.
w h o closed t h e m k n o w i n g
even then they'd w o n
t w o square metres,
r o o m for t h e r e d r o s e t r e e .
 P A U L A M E E H A N

Born Dublin, 1955. Educated at Trinity College Dublin and Eastern

Washington University. Lives in Dublin. A popular reader of
her w o r k , M e e h a n runs writing workshops in prisons, schools
and c o m m u n i t y groups.

M e e h a n ' s p o e m s are remarkable for their unaffected confidence and

directness of address and tor their sudden, intense bursts of lyricism.
M a n y of t h e m celebrate the resilience of w o m e n in adversity.

T H E PATTERN

L i t t l e has c o m e d o w n t o m e o f h e r s ,
a sewing machine, a wedding band,
a clutch of p h o t o s , the sting of h e r h a n d
across m y face i n o n e o f o u r w a r s

w h e n w e h a d g r o w n b i t t e r a n d apart.
S o m e say t h a t ' s t h e fate o f t h e e l d e s t d a u g h t e r .
I w i s h n o w s h e ' d lasted till after
I ' d g r o w n u p . W e m i g h t h a v e m a d e a n e w start

as w o m e n w i t h o u t tags like mother, wife,

sister, daughter, t a k e n o u r c h a n c e s f r o m t h e r e .
A t f o r t y - t w o s h e h e a d e d for g o d k n o w s w h e r e .
I ' v e n e v e r g o n e b a c k t o visit h e r g r a v e .

First s h e ' d s c r u b t h e f l o o r w i t h S u n l i g h t s o a p ,
an armreach at a t i m e . W h e n her knees g r e w sore
s h e ' d b r e a k for a c u p o f t e a , t h e n start a g a i n
a t t h e d o o r w i t h l a v e n d e r polish. T h e smell
w o u l d p e r c o l a t e b a c k t h r o u g h t h e flat t o us,
her brood banished to the b e d r o o m .
A n d as she buffed t h e w a x to a high shine
d i d she c a t c h h e r o w n face c o m i n g clear?
D i d s h e n e t a g l i m m e r o f h e r t r u e self?
D i d h e r m i r r o r tell w h a t m i n e tells m e ?
I have her shrug and go on
k n o w i n g h i s t o r y has b r o u g h t h e r t o h e r k n e e s .

S h e ' d call u s i n a n d let u s skate a r o u n d

in o u r socks. W e ' d g r o w s o l e m n as planets
in an intricate orbit a b o u t her.

She's b e n d i n g over crimson cloth,

t h e y o u n g e r k i d s are l o n g i n b e d .
L a t e s u m m e r , c o l d e n o u g h for a fire,
she w o r k s by fading light
t o r e m a k e a n o l d dress for m e .
It's first d a y b a c k a t s c h o o l t o m o r r o w .

'Pure lambswool. Plenty of w e a r in it yet.

Y o u k n o w I w o r e this w h e n I w e n t o u t w i t h y o u r D a .
I was supposed to be d o w n in a friend's h o u s e ,
y o u r Granda caught us at the corner.
He dragged me in by the hair - it was l o n g as yours t h e n
in front of the w h o l e street.
H e called y o u r D a e v e r y n a m e u n d e r t h e s u n ,
c o r n e r b o y , l o u t ; I n e e d n ' t tell y o u
w h a t h e called m e . H e s h o v e d m y w h o l e h e a d
u n d e r the kitchen tap, t o o k a scrubbing brush
and carbolic soap and in ice-cold w a t e r he scrubbed
e v e r y s p i c k o f l i p s t i c k a n d m a s c a r a off m y face.
Christ but he was a right tyrant, y o u r Granda.
It'll b e o v e r m y d e a d b o d y a n y o n e h a r m s a h a i r o f y o u r h

She inusi h a v e stayed u p lull t h e night

to finish tin' dress I f o u n d ii a i r i n g at t h e fire,
t h r e e n e w c o p y b o o k s on t h e table a n d a b r i g h t
b r o n z e n i b , S t C h r i s t o p h e r s t r u n g o n a silver w i r e ,

as if I w e r e e m b a r k i n g on a p e r i l o u s j o u r n e y
t o u n c h a r t e d r e a l m s . I w o r e t h a t dress
w i t h little g r a c e . T o m e i t spelt p o v e r t y ,
t h e s t i g m a o f t h e s e c o n d h a n d . I g r e w e n o u g h t o pass

it on by Christmas to the n e x t in line. I was sizing

u p t h e w o r l d b e y o n d o u r flat p a t c h b y p a t c h
daily after s c h o o l , a n d f i t t i n g e a c h s u r p r i s i n g
c i t y s t r e e t t o city s q u a r e t o d i a m o n d . I ' d w a t c h

t h e Liffey for h o u r s p u l s i n g t o t h e sea

a n d t h e c o m i n g a n d g o i n g o f ships,
certain that o n e day it w o u l d carry me
to Zanzibar, Bombay, the Land of the Ethiops.

There's a p h o t o of her taken in the P h o e n i x Park

a l o n e o n a b e n c h s u r r o u n d e d b y roses
as if she had b e e n b o r n to formal gardens.
S h e stares o u t a s i f u n a w a r e
that any h u m a n h a n d held the camera, w r a p p e d
entirely in her o w n shadow, the world b e y o n d her
a l r e a d y a d r e a m , a l r e a d y lost. S h e ' s
e i g h t m o n t h s p r e g n a n t . H e r last c h i l d .

H e r steel n e e d l e s s p a r k e d a n d c l a c k e d ,
t h e o n l y o t h e r s o u n d a s e t t l i n g coal
or her sporadic m u t t e r
at a h a r d p a r t in t h e p a t t e r n .
She favoured sensible shades:
Moss Green, Mustard, Beige.

I d r e a m t a r o b e of a c o l o u r
so p u r e it b e c a m e a w o r d .

4(H)
 S o m e t i m e s I'd have to k n e e l
a n h o u r b e f o r e h e r b y t h e fire,
a skein a r o u n d my outstretched hands,
w h i l e s h e r o l l e d w o o l i n t o balls.
If I s w a m l i k e a k i t e t o o h i g h
amongst the shadows on the ceiling
or f l e w l i k e a fish in t h e p o o l s
of pulsing light, s h e ' d reel me firmly
h o m e , she'd land me at h e r knees.

T o n g u e s of flame in h e r dark eyes,

s h e ' d s a y , ' O n e o f t h e s e days I m u s t
teach y o u to follow a pattern.'

CHILD BURIAL

Y o u r coffin l o o k e d u n r e a l ,
f a n c y as a w e d d i n g c a k e .

I chose y o u r grave clothes w i t h care,

y o u r favourite stripey shirt,

y o u r blue c o t t o n trousers.
T h e y smelt of w o o d s m o k e , of O c t o b e r ,

y o u r o w n smell there t o o .
I chose a gansy of h a n d s p u n w o o l ,

w a r m a n d fleecy for y o u . I t i s
so cold d o w n in the dark.

N o light can reach y o u a n d teach y o u

the paths of wild birds,

the names of the flowers,

t h e fishes, t h e c r e a t u r e s .

Ignorant y o u must remain

<il t h e s u n .nid its wi 'i 1..

mi
m y l a m b , m y calf, m y e a g l e t ,
m y c u b , m y kid, m y nestling,

my suckling, my colt. I w o u l d spin

t i m e back, take y o u again

w i t h i n m y w o m b , y o u r a m n i o t i c lair,
a n d further spin y o u b a c k

through nine waxing months

t o t h e split s e e d i n g m o m e n t

you chose to be m a d e flesh,

word within me.

I ' d c a n c e l t h e l o v e feast
the hot night of your making.

I w o u l d travel alone
to a quiet mossy place,

y o u w o u l d spill f r o m m e i n t o t h e e a r t h
drop by bright red drop.

LABURNUM

Y o u walk into an ordinary r o o m

o n a n o r d i n a r y e v e n i n g , say
mid-May, w h e n the laburnum

h a n g s o v e r t h e railings o f t h e S q u a r e
and the city is lulled by eight o'clock,
t h e traffic s p a r s e , t h e air fresher.

Y o u e x p e c t t o find s o m e o n e
w a i t i n g , t h o u g h n o w y o u live
alone. Y o u ' v e answered none
o f y o u r calls. T h e l e t t e r s pile
up in the corner. T h e idea
persists t h a t s o m e o n e w a i t s w h i l e

y o u t u r n t h e brass h a n d l e a n d k n o c k
on the light. Gradually
the dark seeps i n t o the r o o m , y o u lock

o u t t h e n i g h t , scan a f e w b o o k s .
It's days s i n c e y o u a t e .
T h e plants are d y i n g - e v e n t h e cactus,

shrivelled like an old s c r o t u m ,

has g i v e n u p t h e g h o s t . T h e r e ' s
a heel of w i n e in a m a g n u m

y o u b o u g h t , w h e n ? T h e day
before? T h e day before that?
It's t h e o n l y w a y

out. T h e cold sweats

begin. Y o u k n o c k back a few.
Y o u ' v e n o c l e a n c l o t h e s left.

H e i s g o n e . Say it.
Say i t t o yourself, t o t h e r o o m .
Say i t l o u d e n o u g h t o b e l i e v e it.

Y o u will live b r e a t h
by breath. T h e beat of y o u r o w n heart
will s c o u r g e y o u . Y o u ' l l w a i t

i n v a i n , for h e ' s g o n e f r o m y o u .
A n d every n i g h t is a l o n g
slide t o t h e d a w n y o u

w a k e t o , terrified i n y o u r o r d i n a r y r o o m
o n a n o r d i n a r y m o r n i n g , say
m i d - M a y , say t h e t i m e o f l a b u r n u m .

mi
 S E A N D U N N E

B o r n Waterford, 1956. Educated at M o u n t Sion Christian Brothers'

School, Waterford, and University College C o r k . W o r k e d as a journali
on the Cork Examiner. Edited Poets of Minister (1985) and The Cork
Anthology (1993). In My Father's House, a m e m o i r of D u n n e ' s
childhood, appeared in 1991, and The Road to Silence, a spiritual
autobiography, in 1994. Seán D u n n e died suddenly in 1995.

D o m e s t i c h a r m o n y achieved or disrupted serves as an icon for a

range of w i d e r concerns in D u n n e ' s p o e m s , m a n y of w h i c h
share the m u t e d elegiac t o n e o f ' S y d n e y Place', w i t h its
portrait of a disintegrating marriage.

from SYDNEY PLACE

BEANS

W h a t must they have g r o w n to n o w ,

Secrets s p r o u t i n g in the dark?
My arm resting on a windowsill,
I flicked m u n g b e a n s a t ivy
As if next m o r n i n g I'd w a k e
To a beanstalk ripe w i t h solutions.

T H E MOBILE

It j a n g l e s in a m i l d b r e e z e
A b o v e m y s o n t u c k e d i n his c o t .
E a c h m o r n i n g h e w a k e s a n d strains
T o r e a c h its i m p o s s i b l e h e i g h t ,
B u t misses a l w a y s t h o s e t u r n i n g b i r d s ,
Plastic fish s w i m m i n g i n t h e sky.

RAILINGS

M y s o n s w i n g s f r o m b l a c k railings
W h e r e o n c e a horse was tethered.
S n o w settles o n his w o o l l e n h a t ,

404
Crystals dissolve in strands.
In a p h o t o g r a p h he squints ahead
To a future from w h i c h w e ' v e g o n e .

T H E DEAD PIANIST

T h e p i a n i s t ' s f u n e r a l passes
T e r r a c e s a t e v e n i n g s , his l o n g
F i n g e r s j o i n e d o n a still s t o m a c h .
I t h i n k of J o h n Field d e a d in M o s c o w
A n d hear a n o c t u r n e settling
In leaves f r o m trees on W e l l i n g t o n R o a d .

T H E BUS S T A T I O N

T h e p a s s p o r t p h o t o b o o t h flashes
In the bus station near the river.
I watch it from my high w i n d o w :
A message sent w i t h a m i r r o r
F r o m d e s p e r a t e souls i n a v a l l e y ,
F r a n t i c for a n s w e r s i n t h e far hills.

T H E POET UPSTAIRS

T h e p o e t is w o r k i n g upstairs.
I c a n h e a r his t y p e w r i t e r c l a t t e r i n g
Between our arguments, poems made
A m o n g shouts and accusations:
O u r fierce a n g e r a d u s t t h a t c l o g s
T h e b r i g h t n e e d l e o f his w o r k .

TEA

E n d l e s s i n f u s i o n s , silver s t r a i n e r s .
T e a p o t s , b a g s d a n g l i n g f r o m strings
In cups w h e r e dried leaves d a r k e n .
R o s e h i p a n d hibiscus, c a m o m i l e , m i n t ,
A n d l a p s a n g s o u c h o n g w i t h its s m e l l
O f w o o d s m o k e f r o m a forest h e a r t h .

in .
 T H E LOST WIFE

A p o e t b y t h e fireside cries
F o r his d e a d w i f e . W h i s k e y d r a w s
Sadness f r o m h i m l i k e a k e e n .
H e talks o f v o i c e , h a i r , s k i n ,
H o l d s a ring up to the light
A n d f r a m e s t h e s p a c e w h e r e s h e has b e e n .

THE OLD SCHOOL

T h e school is g o n e from Belgrave Place,

R a t s s c r a m b l e i n briars n e a r t h e w a l l .
A l i g h t b u r n s in a c l o s e d c l a s s r o o m
W h e r e I sense t h e ghosts of children,
T h e i r p i n a f o r e s p r e s s e d a n d t h e lost
F u t u r e a blackboard at w h i c h they stand.

T H E N I G H T SKY

A m o o n y o u could hang a coat on,

A p a n t o m i m e c u r v e i n t h e sky.
S m o g r i s e s a b o v e roofs o f t h e city
F r o m h o m e s rife w i t h offerings
To appease it before it disappears:
T h e last g o d g o i n g i n a sliver o f l i g h t .

406
 C A T H A L Ó S E A R C A I G H

B o r n Meenala, C o u n t y Donegal, 1956. Educated at National Institute

for H i g h e r Education, Limerick. Has w o r k e d as radio p r o d u c e r for RTE.
Writer-in-residence at the University of Ulster at Coleraine and
Q u e e n ' s University Belfast, 1 9 9 2 - 3 . Lives on small farm in
C o u n t y Donegal.

O Searcaigh is a productive p o e t w h o brings a variety of m o o d s to his

exploration of the relationship of his native Gaeltacht area of D o n e g a l to
m o d e r n mass culture. T h o u g h the s o m e w h a t self-conscious elegance of
his p o e m s on D u b l i n and L o n d o n is not w i t h o u t its attractions, the
plainer, m o r e elevated m o d e o f ' N a Píopaí Créafóige' and ' C a o i n e a d h '
is finally m o r e convincing. Translation cannot do justice to the
despairing recourse to English as the language of personal
freedom in 'Bó Bhradach'.

in.'
 BÓ BHRADACH
do Liam O Muirthde

D'éirigh sé ddthuirseach déarfainn

d e n uaigneas a shníonn anuas i d t ó l a m h
fríd na m a o l c h n o c á i n is fríd na g l e a n n t á i n
c h o m h m a l l t r i a l l a c h l e hearse t ó r r a i m h ;
de bhailte beaga m a r b h á n t a na m b u n c h n o c
n a c h b h f u i l aos ó g i o n t u a c h o i r e a d l e c r é a f ó g ;
de na seanlaochra, de lucht roiste na d t o r t ó g
a d ' i o m p a i g h an d o m a s a c h ina deargfhód
is a b h o d h r a i g h é pink b l i a i n i n d i a i d h b l i a n a
ag éisteacht leo ag m a í o m h as seanfhóid an tseantsaoil;

d e n a bungalows b h e a g a b h á n a atá c h o m h g r á n n a
le dandruff in ascaill c h í b e a c h an G h l e a n n a ;
de na d a o i n e ó g a gafa i gcage a g c i n n i ú n a
dálta a i n m h i t h e allta a chaill a n g l i c e a s ;
de t h r í thrua na scéalaíochta i dtruacántas
l u c h t n a d í f h o s t a í o c h t a , d e n easpa m e a n m n a ,
d e n iargúltacht, den chúngaigeantacht ar dhá t h a o b h an
Ghleanna;
de na leadhbacha breátha thíos i d T i g h Ruairí
a c h u i r an fear ag b o g a d a i g h a n n le f o n n
ach n a c h dtabharfadh túrálú ar a raibh de shú ann;

de theorainneacha treibhe, de sheanchlaiocha teaghlaigh,

de bheith ag m ú n a mhíshástachta in éadan na mballai
a t h ó g c i n e a g u s c r e i d e a m h t h a r t air g o t e a n n .
D'éirigh sé dúthuirseach de bheith teanntaithe sa G h l e a n n
is le rúide bó bradaí m a i d i n a m h á i n earraigh
chlearáil sé na ballaí is hightailáil a n o n n adaí.

NA PIOPAI CREAFOIGE

N í chasfaidh tusa t h a r t d o c h l o i g e a n n
a g n s a n bás a g r o l l a d h c h u g a t m a r a n t - a i g é a n .

40H
 A RUNAWAY C O W
for Liam O Muirthilc

I ' d say h e ' d h a d t o o m u c h

o f t h e d e s o l a t i o n t h a t trickles d o w n
t h r o u g h the glens and the hillocks
steadily as a h e a r s e ;
o f t h e lifeless villages i n t h e f o o t h i l l s
as b a r e of y o u n g folk as of soil;
of the old codgers, the h u m m o c k - b l a s t e r s
w h o turned the peat into g o o d red earth
a n d w h o d e a f e n e d h i m p i n k y e a r after y e a r
w i t h t h e i r talk o f t h e g r a n d s o d s o f t h e o l d days;

o f t h e little w h i t e b u n g a l o w s , a t t r a c t i v e
as dandruff in the hairy armpit of the G l e n ;
of the y o u n g p e o p l e trapped in their destinies
like c a g e d a n i m a l s o u t o f t o u c h w i t h t h e i r i n s t i n c t ;
of the T h r e e Sorrows of Storytelling
in the pity of u n e m p l o y m e n t , of l o w morale,
and of the remoteness and narrow-mindedness
o f b o t h sides o f t h e G l e n ;
o f t h e fine y o u n g t h i n g s d o w n i n R o r y ' s
w h o w o k e the man in him
b u t w o u l d n ' t g i v e a c u r s e for his a t t e n t i o n s ;

o f clan b o u n d a r i e s , o f o l d tribal d i t c h e s ,
o f pissing his f r u s t r a t i o n against t h e solid walls
race a n d r e l i g i o n b u i l t r o u n d h i m .
H e ' d had too m u c h of being stuck in the Glen
and w i t h a leap like a r u n a w a y c o w ' s o n e spring m o r n i n g
he cleared t h e walls a n d hightailed a w a y .

translated by Patrick Crotty

THE CI AY PIPES

Y o u w o n ! b e the o n e t o turn a w a y w h e n death

rolls i n l o w . m i s y o u l i k e t h e o < c m .

I.i'i
C o i n n e o i d h t ú a g s t á n a d h air g o seasta
a g u s é ag s c u a b a d h c h u g a t i s t e a c h i n a s p r a i s t e a c h a geala
ó f h i o r na s í o r a í o c h t a .
C o i n n e o i d h t ú d o chiall
a g u s do c h é a d f a í a g u s é ag siollfarnaigh
thar chladai d'inchinne
go dti go m b e i d h sé ar d'aithne
g o huile agus g o h i o m l á n
díreach m a r a rinne tú agus tú i do t h a c h r á n
ar thránna Mhachaire Rabhartaigh
agus t o n n t a m a r a an Atlantaigh
ag sealbhú do cholainne.
A c h sula n d e a c h a i g h d o s h a o l a r n e a m h n i
s h r o i c h tusa c i u m h a i s a n c h l a d a i g h .
Tarlóidh a mhacasamhail anseo.
Sroichfidh tú d o m h a n na m b e o
tar éis d u l i d t a i t h i an d u i b h e a g á i n le d ' a i g n e ;
a c h b e i d h séala a n tsáile o r t g o d e o ,
b e i d h d o i m h n e a c h t agat m a r d h u i n e :
as b a o l an b h á i s t i o c f a i d h f i r i n n e .

Ni thabharfainn de shamhail duit i mo dhán

a c h iadsan i g c o i l l t e C h o l u m b i a
a r l é i g h m é f á d t a o b h daofa s a l e a b h a r l a n n :
d r e a m a chaitheann píopaí daite créafóige, píopaí
nár úsáideadh riamh lena n d é a n a m h
ach scaobóga créafóige
a baineadh i mbaol beatha
i n d ú i c h í s e a n - n a m h a d , gleann scáthach
t i m e p a l l a i t h e l e gaistí, g a r d a í a g u s s a i g h e a d a n i m h e .
D a r leo siúd a deir an t-alt tuairisce
n a c h bhfuil p í o p a í ar b i t h i o m l á n ,
seachas na c i n n a b h f u i l b a o l
ag b a i n t le s o l á t h a r a g c u i d c r é a f ó i g e .

410
Y o u w i l l h o l d t o y o u r steadfast g a z e ,
as it c o m e s t i d i n g i n , all plash a n d g l i t t e r
from the rim of eternity.
Y o u will k e e p y o u r head.
Y o u will c o m e t o y o u r senses a g a i n a s i t
foams o v e r t h e ridged beaches of y o u r brain
a n d y o u w i l l t a k e it all in
and k n o w it completely:
y o u will be a child again, o u t on the strand
at Magheraroarty, your body
abandoned altogether
t o t h e lift o f t h e A t l a n t i c .
But before y o u w e n t the w h o l e w a y then away
into nothingness, you w o u l d touch the bottom.
A n d this w i l l b e w h a t h a p p e n s t o y o u h e r e :
you'll go t h r o u g h a black hole of initiation,
t h e n reach the land of the living;
b u t t h e seal o f t h e b r i n e w i l l b e o n y o u f o r e v e r
a n d y o u ' l l h a v e d e p t h as a p e r s o n :
you'll walk from danger of death into the truth.

H e r e is t h e b e s t i m a g e I c a n find:
y o u are like t h e forest p e o p l e o f C o l u m b i a
I r e a d a b o u t i n t h e library,
a t r i b e w h o s m o k e clay p i p e s , c o l o u r e d p i p e s
t h a t u s e d t o h a v e t o b e m a d e f r o m this o n e t h i n g :
basketfuls o f clay
s c o o p e d o u t i n fatal d a n g e r
in e n e m y c o u n t r y , in a scaresome place
full o f traps a n d g u a r d s a n d p o i s o n e d a r r o w s .
A c c o r d i n g to this article, t h e y b e l i e v e
t h a t t h e o n l y fully p e r f e c t p i p e s
are o n e s m a d e o u t o f t h e clay
collected u n d e r such e x t r e m e conditions.

translated by Seamus Heaney

 CAOINEADH
igcuimhne mo mháthar

C h a o i n m é n a cuileatacha a r u c h t m o mháthara
An lá a b h á s a i g h M o l l i e - p e a t a de s h e a n c h a o r a
Istigh i g c r e a g a c h a c r o c h t a na B e i t h i .
A cuartú a b h í m u i d lá m a r b h á n t a s a m h r a i d h
I s b r ú anála o r a i n n b e i r t a g d r e a s ú n a g c a o r a c h
Siar ó na h a i l l t r e a c h a n u a i r a t i m i d an m a r f a c h
S n a b e a n n a d o d h r e a p t h a . P r é a c h á i n d h u b h a ina s c a o t h a
A h i t h e i n a b e a t h a g u r i m i g h a n d é d e i r i d h aisti
De c h n e a d choscrach a m h á i n is gan i o n a i n n iarraidh
T h a r r t h á l a a t h a b h a i r t u i r t h i t h i o s sna s c e a l p a c h a .
Ní thiocfaí mé a shásamh is an tocht ag teacht triom;
D ' f h á i s c l e n a h u c h t m é i s í a g c á s a m h m o chaill l i o m
Go dti gur chuireas an racht adaí ó íochtar mo chroí.
D ' i o m p a i r abhaile mé ansin ar a guailneacha
Ag gealladh go ndéanfadh si ceapairí arán préataí.

Inniu tá mo T h e a n g a i d h ag saothrú an bháis.

A n s a c h t na bhfilí - t e a n g a i d h ár n - a i t h r e a c h a
Gafa i g c r e a g a c h a c r o c h t a na Failli
Is g a n i o n a i n n í a t h a r r t h á i l le d á s a c h t .
Cluinim na smeachannai deireanacha
Is na héanacha creiche ag teacht go tapaidh,
A n g o b a c r a o s a c h a r é i d h c h u n feille.
O dá l i g f e a d h si liú a m h á i n gaile - liú c a t h a
A chuirfeadh na creachadóirí c h u n reatha,
A c h s e o í ag c r e a t h n ú , s e o í ag g é i l l e a d h ;
Nil mo mháthair anseo le mé a shuaimhniú a thuilleadh
Is ní dhéanfaidh gealladh an p h i a n a m h a o h i .
 LAMENT
in memory of my mother

I cried on my m o t h e r ' s breast, cried sore

T h e day Mollie died, o u r old pet e w e
T r a p p e d on a rockface up at Beithi.
I t w a s s u l t r y h e a t , w e ' d b e e n l o o k i n g for h e r ,
Sweating and panting, driving sheep back
F r o m t h e cliff-edge w h e n w e s a w h e r a t t a c k e d
O n a l e d g e far d o w n . C r o w s a n d m o r e c r o w s
W e r e e a t i n g a t h e r . W e h e a r d t h e cries
B u t c o u l d n ' t get near. She was ripped to death
A s w e suffered h e r t e r r i b l e , w i l d , last b r e a t h
A n d my child's heart b r o k e . I c o u l d n ' t be calmed
N o matter h o w m u c h she'd tighten her arms
A n d g a t h e r m e close. I j u s t c r i e d o n
T i l l s h e h u s h e d m e a t last w i t h a p i g g y b a c k
A n d t h e p r o m i s e o f treats o f p o t a t o - c a k e .

T o - d a y it's m y l a n g u a g e t h a t ' s i n its t h r o e s ,

T h e poets' passion, m y m o t h e r s ' fathers'
Mothers' language, abandoned and trapped
O n a fatal l e d g e t h a t w e w o n ' t a t t e m p t .
She's in a g o n y , I can hear h e r h e a v e
A n d gasp a n d s t r u g g l e a s t h e y a r r i v e ,
T h e beaked and ravenous scavengers
W h o are n e v e r far. O h i f o n l y a n g e r
C a m e h o w l i n g w i l d o u t o f h e r grief,
If only she'd bare the teeth of her love
A n d r o u t the pack. B u t she's giving in,
She's quivering badly, my m o t h e r ' s g o n e
A n d p r o m i s e s n o w w o n ' t ease t h e p a i n .

translated by Seamus Heaney

II \
 P E T E R S I R R

Born Waterford, 1960. Educated at Trinity College D u b l i n . Lived for

n u m b e r of years in Italy and Holland. N o w lives in D u b l i n , w h e r e he
director of the Irish Writers' C e n t r e . A frequent poetry reviewer
for the Irish Times.

Sirr's p o e m s are notable for their rapid m o v e m e n t and, at their best,

reveal a restless, penetrating intelligence.

A FEW HELPFUL HINTS

Tell t h e m w h a t y o u like. Tell t h e m

t h e w o r l d i s f l a t a n d w h e n y o u g e t t o t h e e d g e y o u fall
i n t o t h e usual d a r k n e s s , h e l l i f y o u like
b u t a n y w h e r e will d o , a n y s t o r i e d s p a c e
m y t h i c a l r e t u r n e r s h a v e w h i n e d of, salty
a n d s m e l l i n g o f loss. T e l l t h e m t h e rain falls
a n d steals slyly up a n d falls, a n d falls -
tell t h e m e v e r y t h i n g t w i c e for e m p h a s i s
a n d t h e n again t h e n e x t d a y for r e v i s i o n .
Set t h e m tests o n t h e s a m e t h i n g t i m e a n d t i m e a g a i n .
T e l l t h e m m o s t o f life i s r e p e t i t i v e
a n d this w i l l s t a n d t h e m i n g o o d stead.
Tell t h e m about gravity and love,
drop the w h o l e w o r l d on their heads
if you have to, the broad curriculum
o f h a t r e d a n d d e s i r e a n d t h e n e e d for m o n e y
a n d l o v e , tell t h e m s o m e t h i n g s are p e r m i s s i b l e
a n d s o m e less s o , t h o u g h i d e a l l y w e ' d p r e f e r i t
i f y o u left t h a t t o us. A b o v e all
d o n ' t be h e a v y h a n d e d , k e e p a light t o n e ,
encourage t h e m to laugh, encourage t h e m to believe
t h e y are g e t t i n g a w a y w i t h s o m e t h i n g w h e n t h e y d o .
E n c o u r a g e t h e m t o see y o u a s a fragile
merely h u m a n being. Forget things, mix up names
a n d b e o c c a s i o n a l l y unfair i n t h e a l l o t m e n t o l m a r k s .

•Ill
Tell t h e m about yourself if it helps. A l l o w y o u r e m o t i o n s
t o e n t e r t h e syllabus, w h e n r e a d i n g a p o e m , o r t e l l i n g t h e m
things that have h a p p e n e d . Break d o w n if y o u have to,
rail against t h e w o r l d a n d its m i n d l e s s c r u e l t i e s .
T e l l t h e m w e c o u l d all b e b l o w n o u t o f i t
or the sun m i g h t go out or t o o m u c h of it get t h r o u g h .
Tell t h e m n o t to use aerosols, organise a project
o n it. P r o j e c t s are g o o d . W e l i k e t o stress
the need to w o r k together. H a r m o n y
i s t h e oil i n t h e m a c h i n e r y , o r s o m e t h i n g
like t h a t . T e l l t h e m a b o u t t h e m e n w h o c a m e t o save u s
w i t h beautiful voices and a p o e t r y
w e w o u l d l i k e t o h a v e f o u n d t i m e for, w e m a y y e t
retire to. Tell t h e m a b o u t those
w h o h a v e still t o c o m e , shuffling i n a w k w a r d n e s s a n d a n g e r
from the cardboard slums that t r e m b l e e v e n n o w
on the outskirts, w h o s e p o e m s
m a y already be struggling in o u r b l o o d
o r h u r t l i n g t h r o u g h t h e d a r k c a t h e d r a l spaces
a c h i e v e d a n d p u r e , u n s e t t l i n g t h e stars.

n,
 P E T E R M C D O N A L D

B o r n Belfast, 1962. Educated at Methodist College, Belfast, and

University College, Oxford. Lectures in English at the University of
Bristol. A critic of distinction, M c D o n a l d has published Louis MacNeice:
The Poet in his Contexts (1991).

M c D o n a l d ' s is a cerebral, self-aware, resolutely u n s h o w y poetry.

'Sunday in Great T e w ' explores an exiled n o r t h e r n Protestant's response
to the R e m e m b r a n c e Day massacre at Enniskillen in 1987, an event
the p o e m n e v e r directly m e n t i o n s .

SUNDAY IN GREAT T E W
8th November 1987

It's t i m e t o g e t b a c k t o t h e car. A l r e a d y , a t half-past t h r e e ,

t h e l i g h t ' s t h r e e - q u a r t e r s g o n e , a n d b a c k across t h e g r e e n
y o u can w a t c h the shifting greys of a subtle fog by n o w
c o m i n g o v e r t o freeze t h e steps w e l e a v e , o u r g h o s t s ' f o o t p r i n t s ,

t o slight m a r k s i n N o v e m b e r grass, a n d t h a t ' s t h e last

o f u s this a f t e r n o o n , this y e a r , i n this m o d e l village
a half-hour's drive from Oxford, w h e r e we c o m e in s u m m e r
l i k e t h e o t h e r t o u r i s t s , t o d r i n k d e c e n t b e e r , sniff w o o d s m o k e ,

a n d a d m i r e t h a t c h e d roofs on sturdy, stone-built houses,

as t h o u g h t h e w h o l e place w e r e a replica of s o m e E n g l a n d ,
a n i d e a o n s h o w , u n c h a n g i n g , glassy, n o t q u i t e t o u c h a b l e .
B u t this i s N o v e m b e r , a n d S u n d a y . I t i s S u n d a y i n G r e a t T e w .

E v e r y visit n o w a d a y s i s a n act o f r e m e m b r a n c e ,
m e a s u r i n g c h a n g e s i n u s against s o m e o t h e r s u m m e r
w h e n w e sat h e r e d r i n k i n g , a n d s w a p p e d o u r r a n d o m gossip
- friends, w o r k and b o o k s , hard politics or love

416
across a w o o d e n t a b l e i n a n a l w a y s b u s y p u b
w i t h p r o p e r b e e r o n sale, n o t t h e w a t e r y O x f o r d slops,
a n d w h e r e , a s t h e i r s p e c i a l i t y , t h e y sell h a n d - m a d e p i p e s ,
briars a n d c l a y - p i p e s , e v e r y o n e t h e g e n u i n e a r t i c l e ,

(though these, admittedly, we never got around to buying);

o n e y e a r w e ' r e t a l k i n g a b o u t t h a t h e a d s t r o n g , h a p p y girl
y o u ' d c h a s e d u n l u c k i l y for m o n t h s ; a n o t h e r , a n d w e ' r e d i s c u s s i n g
far-off acts o f w a r , t h e real t h i n g , h e r e i n t h e F a l k l a n d A r m s .

T h e m a n o r h o u s e , concealed b e h i n d thick trees and hedges,

m i g h t w e l l b e h o m e n o w for s o m e e c c e n t r i c m i l l i o n a i r e
w h o s e l d o m s h o w s his face; f r o m t h e r o a d g o i n g u p h i l l
t o t h e c h u r c h , y o u c a n see t h r o u g h gaps d o w n t o t h e h o u s e itself,

h e a v y a n d s t r o n g , like t h e b r a s h h i s t o r y i t s u g g e s t s ,
having and h o l d i n g so m u c h ; was it here since the Civil W a r ,
w h e n the bookish m a n w h o o w n e d the place, Lord Falkland,
w a s a loyalist w h o f o u n d h i m s e l f o u t m a n o e u v r e d ?

O n c e he played patron here to the poet A b r a h a m C o w l e y

- o u t m a n o e u v r e d himself, i n his w a y , b y P a r l i a m e n t ' s
staunch w o r k e r M i l t o n , t r u e t o different lights, b u t blind,
po-faced, pig-headed and holy, almost an Ulsterman.

N a m e s of the wars change, and of course the protagonists change:

t h e c h u r c h c o n t a i n s its v a r i o u s slabs o f m e m o r i a l s t o n e
w i t h n a m e s o f t h e d e a d m e n , w h e r e t o d a y a single w r e a t h
o f p o p p i e s d o e s its d u t y , pays t h e m its stiff h o m a g e

o f g l a r i n g r e d f l o w e r s for d e a t h , r o o t l e s s a n d p a p e r y ,
b u n c h e d t o g e t h e r in grief or pride, or w i t h indifference,
on a Sunday like any o t h e r S u n d a y in N o v e m b e r ;
t h e r e ' s a s m e l l o f d a m p m i x e d w i t h t h e s m e l l o f g e n t e e l ladies

a n d t h e c o l d slips f o r w a r d f r o m t h e walls a n d t h e d a r k floor

s o thai h e r e , t o o , w e must b e c o m e ' aliens, shut o u t

•II /
f r o m w h a t e v e r w e m i g h t b e t e m p t e d t o call o u r o w n , r e m i n d e d
t h a t t h e d e a d are c l o s e , t h a t h e r e t h e p o p p y i s a n E n g l i s h f l o w e r .

T h e r e are n o w o r d s t o find for t h e d e a d , a n d n o g e s t u r e s ,

n o s e r m o n s t o b e t u r n e d , n o c u r s e s t o lay n o w a n d for e v e r
on one house, or the other, or on both; there is no need
t o r e r u n t h e s c a l d i n g i m a g e s t h e y h a v e left i n o u r k e e p i n g ,

o r p i t c h h o t m i s e r y i n t o this c o l d c o m f o r t , a s t h o u g h
o n e i l l - b r e d o u t b u r s t h e r e m i g h t m a k e s e n s e o f it;
there is no n e e d to w a t c h television in the afternoon
t o u n d e r s t a n d t h a t n o b o d y has e v e r d i e d w i t h a g o o d r e a s o n ,

a n d see t h e Irish s l a u g h t e r o n e a n o t h e r like w o g s ;

there is no need, only n o w a blinding appetite,
this a f t e r n o o n , t o m o r r o w , t h e d a y after; s o t o n i g h t i n t h e
Killyhevlin
H o t e l t h e t e a m f r o m ITN w i l l b e o r d e r i n g c h a m p a g n e .

O n e drink today, one pint of beer, and o n e short walk

in t h e s o b e r afternoon a r o u n d an English village,
a c o n v e r s a t i o n j u m p i n g from o n e silence to a n o t h e r
i n r i p e O x o n i a n v o w e l s , t w o figures o n t h e i r o w n

in some pretend backwater with picture-postcard views,

slipping discreetly into a p r o p e r c o u n t r y c h u r c h y a r d
and q u o t i n g poetry, and laughing n o w that everything's
t o o l a t e , i m a g i n i n g t h e r i g h t h i s t o r y for t h e p l a c e ,

inglorious, largely m u t e : t w o generals discussing t e r m s ,

t h e i r f i s t s set h a r d o n t h e o a k t a b l e t h a t ' s b e t w e e n t h e m ,
w h e r e n e i t h e r will say t h e w o r d ' d e f e a t ' , t h o u g h b o t h r e t u r n
w i t h d i f f e r e n t n a m e s for v i c t o r y t o t h e i r b e a t e n p e o p l e .

E v e n i n t h e m i d d l e o f w i n t e r , t h e sky i s e v e r y w h e r e ,
folded above us as we walk with hands sunk in o u r pockets,

•I I H
o u r fingers w o r r y i n g o v e r c o l d c o i n s a n d k e y - r i n g s ;
it c o v e r s us c o m p l e t e l y as a n u m b i n g a n a e s t h e t i c

s o t h a t e v e r y t i m e w e m i g h t l o o k u p , t h e t w o o f us,
t h e t r e e s w e c a n see w i t h f o g t r a i l i n g i n t h e i r b r a n c h e s ,
t h e s c a r e c r o w s t a n d i n g u p i n its o n e b l a n k field
(or w h a t l o o k s f r o m h e r e like a s c a r e c r o w ) , t h e r o w o f o l d h o u s e s

s n u g and expensive a n d e m p t y , e v e n the p u b b e h i n d us,

all b e c o m e i n c i d e n t a l , o b l i q u e m a r k s set i n t h e m a r g i n ,
s w e p t o u t t o t h e e d g e s o f a s i n g l e , clear p e r s p e c t i v e ,
t h e o n e t h a t m a t t e r s m o s t , o r least, a n d n e v e r c h a n g e s .

A f l o w e r o f c r u m p l e d p a p e r w i t h its b u t t o n o f b l a c k plastic
has fallen f r o m s o m e b o d y ' s c o a t , a n d i s l y i n g h e r e b e s i d e
a v a c a n t p h o n e - b o x o p p o s i t e t h e village s c h o o l
along with an e m p t y packet of twenty Benson and Hedges

a n d w h a t looks like a bus-ticket; such m o d e s t litter

m i g h t b e t h e last t h i n g y o u n o t i c e , a n d for all t h e cars p a r k e d
there's n o b o d y here but us walking out in the open,
a n d e v e n w e a r e m a k i n g o u r w a y b a c k t o a car,

o p e n i n g , closing doors, clicking in seat-belts, switching on

d i p p e d headlights and starting the e n g i n e ; t u r n i n g a r o u n d
and taking a right at the deserted school,
o n o u r w a y h o m e , l e a v i n g a b s o l u t e l y n o t h i n g b e h i n d us.

PEACETIME

H a l f - w a y d o w n y o u lose t h e s e n s e o f falling,
call off h o s t i l i t i e s b e t w e e n t h i n g s a n d t h e s o u l
and w a v e perhaps, n o w t i m e is to spare,
o n t h e clear road from h e r e t o w h e r e v e r ;
for e v e r y o n e i s c r y i n g i n r e l i e f
and congratulation, historians and survivors
disc u s s t h e n g r i e v o u s m e m o r i e s o n air,

1
II '
d i z z y i n this late r e p r i e v e a n d f r e e d o m ,
a n d it all h u r t s like a c h i l d b i r t h , c r a z y
w i t h drugs and n e w s and people and c h a m p a g n e .

T h i s is all h a p p e n i n g b e f o r e its t i m e
o r after; this i s w e e k e n d l e a v e ;
t h e s e are t h e e x p e r t s a n d t h e b l o n d e c h i l d r e n
r e a d y t o sing, l i k e a h a p p y a r m y ;
t h i s is a g o o d d a y for flying;
this is t h e c a t ' s -
c r a d l e o f t h e b r i d g e a n d t h e e x c e l l e n t sky;
this i s t h e safe e n d o f e v e r y t h i n g ;
this i s t h e b e a r d a n d t h e d r o p p i n g
smile of J o h n B e r r y m a n g o i n g to h e a v e n .

420
 M A R T I N M O O N E Y

Born Belfast, 1964. G r e w up in N e w t o w n a r d s , C o u n t y D o w n .

Educated at Q u e e n ' s University Belfast. Lived in L o n d o n for a numbi
of years before r e t u r n i n g to Belfast. W o r k s as a m e m b e r of faculty at tl
Poets' H o u s e , P o r t m u c k , C o u n t y Antrim.

M o o n e y ' s is perhaps the most quirky, interesting talent a m o n g an

e m e r g e n t generation of n o r t h e r n poets uneasily negotiating the
influence of Paul M u l d o o n . T h e macabre satire of his low-life
L o n d o n sequence Grub (1993) yields to a cautious lyricism in
'Anna A k h m a t o v a ' s Funeral'.

A N N A AKHMATOVA'S FUNERAL

It looks to me like a h e r o ' s w e l c o m e ,

as t h e y carry y o u on their shoulders
t o the grave, w i t h n o m o r e delicacy
than they w o u l d cheap furniture,
like a slender m a t c h w o o d w a r d r o b e
full o f o l d c l o t h e s a n d c o a t h a n g e r s
or an i n c o m p l e t e d i n n e r service
packed in shavings and newsprint.
If I t o o k it at face v a l u e I ' d say
t h e u n t i d i n e s s of it all sits easily
w i t h p o e t r y , s u g g e s t i n g a life
lived a c c o r d i n g to n o b o d y ' s rules
a m o n g m e s s y b o o k s h e l v e s , tables
b u r i e d u n d e r a n a v a l a n c h e o f drafts
i n a h o u s e t h a t ' s a h o m e for a n y o n e
w h o happens to knock on the door.
In t h e k i t c h e n a p a n of m i l k boils
over, s m o k e burps from the samovar,
a m o n t h ' s salads t u r n b i t t e r . . . A n d ,
in the same way, you might never
h a v e b o t h e r e d t o dress yourself
o r put o n m a k e - u p , t o a n s w c i letters
o r p a y t h e bills. T h e r a g g e d e d g e
unravels back from the graveside
i n t o a n y n u m b e r o f p o s s i b l e lives,
e a c h o n e less o r d e r l y , less d i s c i p l i n e d ,
a n d a l r e a d y , s o s o o n after t h e m all,
history is learning to ignore y o u ,
d e s p i t e t h e p r e s e n c e o f t h e film c r e w
and the mourners, w h o might as well
be s p e c t a t o r s filling a s t a d i u m
o r t h e n i g h t shift o n its w a y h o m e .
A d m i t it, it has its a t t r a c t i o n s , this
r o u g h - h a n d e d slovenliness of things:
y o u c o u l d slip t o o n e side u n n o t i c e d
and w a t c h , suppressing a smile
t h a t says, ' H o w l i g h t s h e is, h o w easily
they hold her up above their heads,
no heavier t h a n a child or a p o e m ,
n o m o r e solid t h a n t h e p r i e s t ' s s e r m o n
or t h e c r u m b l i n g laws of gravity.'
Weightless, you tiptoe backwards
o u t of t h e c e m e t e r y , like a shy guest
still d i s t r u s t i n g h e r i n v i t a t i o n ,
g o h o m e t o a n y o f t h e lives y o u l e d
w i t h o u t leaving so m u c h as a t h u m b p r i n t
o r a stray e y e l a s h t o b e p i c k e d u p
by the unsteady gaze of the camera
skirting the edge of absence.

I !'
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Grateful acknowledgement is made to:

Anvil Press Poetry for permission to reprint the following poems by Thomas
McCarthy: 'Mr Nabokov's M e m o r y ' from Tlie Non-Aligned Storyteller (1984);
'Persephone, 1978' and 'The Standing Trains' from Seven Winters in Paris
(1989)
Blackstaft Press tor permission to reprint the following poems by Paul Durcan:
'The Late Mr Charles Lynch Digresses' and 'Six Nuns Die in Convent Inferno'
(extract) from Going Home to Russia (1987); for permission to reprint the
following poems by John Hewitt: 'Freehold' (extract), 'The Ram's Horn',
'The Colony', 'Substance and Shadow', 'An Irishman in Coventry' and 'A
Local Poet' from Collected Poems (1991); for permission to reprint the following
poem by Martin Mooney: 'Anna Akhmatova's Funeral' from Grub (1993)
Bloodaxe Books for permission to reprint the following poems by Ian Duhig:
Tr Hen Iaith A'i C h a n e u o n ' and 'Reforma Agraria' from The Bradford Count
(1991); for permission to reprint the following poems by Brendan Kennelly:
'Three Tides' and 'Vintage' from Cromwell (1987); for permission to reprint the
following poem by Peter McDonald: 'Sunday in Great T e w ' from Biting the
Wax (1989)
T h e Calder Educational Trust, London, and the Samuel Beckett Estate for the
following poems: 'Cascando' and 'Roundelay' by Samuel Beckett and 'my way
is in the sand flowing' and 'what would I do without this world faceless
incurious' by Samuel Beckett and translated from the French by Samuel
Beckett, from Collected Poems 1930-1978, published by John Calder
(Publishers) Ltd, London. Copyright © Samuel Beckett 1936, 1948, 1976,
1984 and copyright © the Samuel Beckett Estate 1994
Carcanet Press for permission to reprint the following poems by Padraic
Fallon: 'A Flask of Brandy', 'Kiltartan Legend', 'Yeats at Athenry Perhaps',
'Three Houses' (extract) and 'A Bit of Brass' from Collected Poems (1990); for
permission to reprint the following poems by Eavan Boland: 'Listen. This Is
the Noise of Myth' and 'Fond Memory' from Selected Poems (1989); 'The Black
Lace Fan My Mother Gave M e ' , ' T h e Latin Lesson' and 'Midnight Flowers'
from Outside History (1990); 'Anna Liffey' from //; a Time of Violence (1994)
Chatto and Windus for permission to reprint the following poems by Bernard
O ' D o n o g h u e : 'A N u n Takes the Veil' and ' T h e Weakness' from The Weakness
(1991)
R. Dardis Clarke, 21 Pleasants Street, Dublin 8, for permission to reprint the
following poems by Austin Clarke: 'The Lost Heifer', 'The Young Woman of
Beare' (extract), 'The Planter's Daughter', 'Celibacy', 'Martha Blake', 'The
Straying Student', 'Penal Law', 'Si Christopher', 'Early Unfinished Sketch',
'Martha 01.ike .n I ill \ O n e ' and Tiresias' (extract) from < Collected Poems (1974)

i!I
An Clóchomhar Teoranta for permission to reprint the following poems by
Máirtín O Direám: 'Deireadh Ré', ' C u i m h n e an Domhnaigh' and 'Cranna
Foirtif from Dánta 1939-1979 (1980); all poems translated by Patrick Crotty
Cló Iar-Chonnachta T e o for permission to reprint the following poems by
Cathal O Searcaigh: 'Bó Bhradach' (translated by Patrick Crotty), 'Na Píopaí
Créafóige' (translated by Seamus Heaney) and 'Caoineadh' (translated by
Seamus Heaney) from Homecoming/An Bealach 'na Bhailc (1993)
T h e estate of Brian Coffey for permission to reprint the following poems:
'Death ot Hektor' (extract) and 'For What for W h o m Unwanted' (extracts)
from Poems and Versions 1929-1990 (1991)
Dedalus Press for permission to reprint the following poems by Denis Devlin:
'Ank'hor Vat', 'Little Elegy' and 'Memoirs of a Turcoman Diplomat: Oteli
Asia Palas, Inc.' (extract) from Collected Poems (1989)
T h e estate of Denis Devlin for permission to reprint the following poem:
'Renewal by H e r Element' from Collected Poems (1964)
Paul Durcan for permission to reprint the following poems: 'The Hat Factory'
and 'Tullynoe: Téte-a-Tóte in the Parish Priest's Parlour' from 77/c Selected
Paul Durcan (2nd ed., 1985); 'The Haulier's Wife Meets Jesus on the Road Near
M o o n e ' and 'Around the Corner from Francis Bacon' from The Berlin Wall
Cafe (1985); ' T h e Levite and His Concubine at Gibeah' from Crazy About
Women (1991)
Faber and Faber for permission to reprint the following poems by Fergus Allen:
'Elegy for Faustina' and ' T h e Fall' from Tlie Brown Parrots of Providencia (1993);
for permission to reprint the following poem by Samuel Beckett: 'Words and
Music' (extract) from Collected Shorter Plays (1984); for permission to reprint the
following poems by Seamus Heaney: 'Churning Day' from Death of a Naturalist
(1966); 'Broagh' and 'The Tollund Man' from Wintering Out (1972); 'Sunlight'
and 'Funeral Rites' from North (1975); 'Casualty', 'Badgers' and 'The Harvest
Bow' from Field Work (1979); ' T h e Birthplace' and ' T h e Cleric' from Station
Island (1984); 'From the Frontier of Writing' and 'From the Canton of
Expectation' from 77K* Haw Lantern (1987); 'Wheels within Wheels', 'Lightenings
V I I I ' and 'Lightenings I X ' from Seeing Tilings (1991); for permission to reprint
the following poems by Louis MacNeice: 'Mayfly', 'Snow', 'Autumn Journal
X V l ' , 'Meeting Point', 'Autobiography', 'The Libertine', 'Western Landscape',
'Autumn Sequel X X ' (extract), 'The Once-in-Passing', 'House on a Cliff, 'Soap
Suds', 'The Suicide' and 'Star-gazer' from Collected Poems (1966); tor permission
to reprint the following poems by Paul Muldoon: 'Lunch with Pancho Villa',
'Cuba', 'Anseo', 'Gathering Mushrooms' and 'The More a Man Has the More
a Man Wants' from Selected Poems 1968-1983 (1986); 'Something Else' from
Meeting the British (1987); 'Cauliflowers' from Madoc (1990); for permission to
reprint the following poems by T o m Paulin: 'Pot Burial' and 'Where Art Is a
Midwife' from Tlie Strange Museum (1980); 'Desertmartin', 'Off the Back of a
Lorry' and 'A Written Answer' from Liberty Tree (1983); 'The Lonely T o w e r '
from Walking a Line (1994); for permission to reprint the following poems by
Maurice Riordan: 'Milk', 'Time O u t ' and 'A Word from the Loki' from .1 11 ord
from the Loki (1995)
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, Inc., for permission to reprint the following poems:
'Broagh', 'Churning Day', 'Funeral Rites', 'Sunlight' and 'The Tollund Man'
from Poems 1965-1975 by Seamus Heaney. Copyright © 19H0 by Seamus
Heaney; 'Badgers', 'Casualty', 'From the Canton of Expectation', 'From the
Frontier of Writing' and 'The Harvest Bow' from Selected Poems 1966-19H7
by Seamus Heaney. Copyright © 1 9 9 0 by Seamus Heaney; 'The Birthplace'
and ' T h e Cleric' from Station Island by Seamus Heaney. Copyright © 1985 by
Seamus Heaney; 'Wheels within Wheels', 'Lightenings VI11' and 'Lightenings
IX' from Seeing Tilings by Seamus Heaney. Copyright © 1991 by Seamus
Heaney
Gallery Press for permission to reprint the following poem by Sean Dunne:
'Sydney Place' (extracts) from Tlie Sheltered Nest (1992); tor permission to
reprint the following poems by Eamon Grennan: ' T o t e m ' and 'Four Deer'
from Wliat Light There Is (1987); 'Breaking Points' from As If It Matters (1991);
for permission to reprint the following poems by Michael Hartnett: 'Bread', 'I
have exhausted the delighted range . . .', 'For My Grandmother, Bridget
Halpin', 'A Farewell to English' (extract), 'Lament for Tadgh Cronin's
Children' and 'The Man w h o Wrote Yeats, the Man w h o Wrote Mozart' from
Selected and New Poems (1994); 'Sneachta Gealai '77' and 'Moonsnow '77' from
A Necklace of Wrens (1987); for permission to reprint the following poems by
Pearse Hutchinson: 'Malaga' and 'Gaeltacht' from Selected Poems (1982);
'Sometimes Feel' from Watching the Morning Grow (1972); for permission to
reprint the following poems by Medbh McGuckian: 'The Seed-picture',
'Gateposts' and ' T h e Flower Master' from 77;c Flower Master and Other Poems
(1993); 'The Sitting' from Venus and the Rain ( 1 9 8 4 , 1994 revised edition);
'Marconi's Cottage' from Marconi's Cottage (1991); 'Porcelain Bells' (extract)
from Captain Lavender (1994); for permission to reprint the following poems by
Ciaran Carson: 'Dresden' and 'Cocktails' from 77;c Irish for No (1987); ' T h e
M o u t h ' and 'Hamlet' from Belfast Confetti ( 1 9 8 9 ) ; 'Ovid: Metamorphoses, V,
5 2 9 - 5 5 0 ' and 'Bagpipe Music' from First Language (1993); for permission to
reprint tlie following poems by Paula Meehan: ' T h e Pattern' and 'Child Burial'
from The Man Wlw Was Marked by Winter (1991); 'Laburnum' from Pillow Talk
(1994); for permission to reprint the following poems byjohn Montague: 'Like
Dolmens Round My Childhood, the Old People', 'The Trout', 'A Chosen
Light' (extract), ' T h e Same Gesture', 'Last Journey', 'Dowager' and 'Herbert
Street Revisited' from New Selected Poems ( 1 9 8 9 ) ; 'Small Secrets' from Collected
Poems (1995); for permission to reprint the following poems by Eiléan Ni
Chuilleanáin: ' T h e Second Voyage' and 'Deaths and Engines' from Tlie Second
Voyage (1977, 1986); 'The Informant' from The Magdalene Sermon (1990); 'The
Real Thing' and 'Saint Margaret of Cortona' from 77/c Brazen Serpent ( 1 9 9 4 ) ;
for permission to reprint the following poems by Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill: 'Féar
Suaithinseach' (translated by Seamus Heaney), 'An Bhábóg Bhriste' (translated
by John Montague), 'An Bhean Mhídhílis' (translated by Paul Muldoon) and
'Ccist na Teangan' (translated by Paul Muldoon) from Pharoah's Daughter
(1990); 'Caitlin' (translated by Paul Muldoon) from The Astrakhan Cloak
(
(l W2); for permission to reprint the following poems by Frank Ornisby:
'Passing (he ( i e m . i i o i m m ' from I St()ic oj (:,nidles (I >77, 1986); 'I lome' from
(

I Northern Spring (P'H(>); Im permission to reprint the following poems by

W.R. Rodgers: 'Lent', 'The N e t ' and 'Stormy Night' from Poems (1993) and
'Snow'; for permission to reprint the following poems by James Simmons:
' O n e of the Boys', 'West Strand Visions' and 'From the Irish' from Poems
1956-1986 (1986); for permission to reprint the following poem by Peter Sirr:
'A Few Helpful Hints' from Ways of Falling (1991)
Grove/Atlantic, Inc., for permission to reprint the following poems by Samuel
Beckett: 'Cascando', 'my way is in the sand flowing', 'what would I do without
this world faceless incurious' and 'Roundelay' from Collected Poems in English
and French (1977); 'Words and Music' (extract) from Collected Shorter Plays
(1984)
Seamus Heaney for permission to reprint the following poem: 'Keeping Going'
Sheila Iremonger for permission to reprint the following poems by Valentin
Iremonger: 'This Houre Her Vigill', 'Clear View in Summer' and 'Icarus' from
Sandymoimt, Dublin (1988)
Biddy Jenkinson for permission to reprint the following poem: 'Cáitheadh'
T h e trustees of the estate of Patrick Kavanagh, c/o Peter Fallon, Literary
Agent, Loughcrew, Oldcastle, County Meath, Ireland, for kind permission to
reprint the following poems: ' T o the Man After the Harrow', 'Stony Grey
Soil', 'The Great Hunger' (extracts), ' T h e Twelfth ofjuly', 'Tarry Flynn', 'A
Christmas Childhood', 'Father Mat', 'Elegy for Jim Larkin', 'Epic',
'Innocence', 'Kerr's Ass' and 'The Hospital'
Thomas Kinsella for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Chrysalides'
from Selected Poems 1956-1968 (1973); 'Notes from the Land of the Dead'
(extracts) from New Poems 1973 (1973); ' O n e ' (extracts) and 'Anniversaries'
(extract) from One and Other Poems (1979); 'The Messenger' (extract) and ' O u t
of Ireland' (extract) from Blood and Family (1988); ' O n e Fond Embrace'
(extract) from One Fond Embrace: Peppercanistcr 13 (1988)
Michael Longley for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Phemios and
Medon' and 'River & Fountain'
Thomas McCarthy for permission to reprint the following poem: 'State
Funeral' from Tlie First Convention (1978)
Peter McDonald for permission to reprint the following poem: 'Peacetime'
T h e estate of Thomas MacGreevy for permission to reprint the following
poems: 'Homage to Hieronymous Bosch' and 'Recessional' from Collected
Poems (1991)
John Montague for permission to reprint the following poems: 'A Drink of
Milk', 'Family Conference' and ' T h e Cave of Night' (extract) from Selected
Poems (1982)
Richard Murphy for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Sailing to an
Island' and 'The Poet on the Island' from Sailing to an Island (1963); 'The Battle
of Aughrim' (extract) from Tlie Battle of Aughrim (1968); 'Seals at High Island'
and 'Stormpetrel' from High Island (1974); 'Morning Call' and 'The Price of
Stone' (extracts) from Tlie Price of Stone (1985)
N e w Island Books for permission to reprint the following translation by
Michael Hartnctt: 'Annunciations' from Nuala Ni Dhonihnaill, Selected Poems:
Rogha Dánta (1988)
Nuala Ni Dhonihnaill for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Scéala'
(translated by Michael Hartnett) and 'Fáilte Bhéal na Sionna don lasc'
(translated by Patrick Crotty) from An Dealg Droighin (1981)
W . W . Norton and Company, Inc., for permission to reprint the following
poems by Eavan Boland: 'Listen. This Is the Noise of Myth' and 'Fond
Memory' reprinted from Outside History: Selected Poems 1980-1990 by Eavan
Boland with the permission of W . W . Norton and Company Inc. Copyright ©
1990 by Eavan Boland; 'The Black Lace Fan My Mother Gave Me', 'The Latin
Lesson', 'Midnight Flowers' and 'Anna Liffey' reprinted from /;/ a Time of
Violcnceby Eavan Boland with the permission of W . W . Norton and Company,
Inc. Copyright © 1994 by Eavan Boland
Frank Ormsby tor permission to reprint the following poem: 'A Paris
H o n e y m o o n ' (extract)
Alex Osborne for permission to reprint the following translation: 'Spray'
Oxford University Press for permission to reprint the following poems by
Derek Mahon: 'A Dying Art', 'Ecclesiastes', 'An Image from Beckett', 'Lives',
'The Snow Party', 'A Refusal to M o u r n ' and 'A Disused Shed in C o . Wexford"
from Poems 1962-1978 (1979), © Derek Mahon 1979; 'Courtyards in Delft',
'Rathlin' and Tractatus' from The Hunt by Night (1982). © Derek Mahon
1982
Peters, Fraser and Dunlop for permission to reprint the following poems by
Michael Longley: 'In Memoriam', 'Caravan', 'Wounds', 'Ghost T o w n ' , 'Man
Lying on a Wall', 'Wreaths', 'Mayo Monologues (extract) and 'The Linen
Industry' from Poems 1963-1983 (1991)
Sairséal * O Marcaigh Tta for permission to reprint the following poems by
Máire Mhac an tSaoi: 'Caoineadh' and 'Ceathrúintí Mháire N í O g á i n ' from An
Cion Go Dti Seo (1987); for permission to reprint the following poems by Seán
Ó Ríordáin: 'Adhlacadh Mo Mháthar', 'Malairt', 'Cnoc Mellen" and
'Siollabadh' from Eireaball Spideoige (1952); 'Claustrophobia', 'Reo' and
'Fiabhras' from Brosna (1964); all poems translated by Patrick Crotty
Martin Seeker and Warburg for permission to reprint the following poems by
Michael Longley: 'In Memoriam', 'Caravan', 'Wounds', 'Ghost T o w n ' , 'Man
Lying on a Wall', 'Wreaths', 'Mayo Monologues' (extract) and ' T h e Linen
Industry' from Poems 1963-1983 (1991); 'Between Hovers', 'Laertes', 'Argos'
and 'The Butchers' from Gorse Fires (1991); for permission to reprint the
following poems by Matthew Sweeney: ' T o the Building Trade' and ' T u b e
Ride to Martha's' from Blue Shoes (1989)
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Ciaran Carson: 'Dresden' and 'Cocktails' from The Irish for No (1987); 'The
M o u t h ' and 'Hamlet' from Belfast Confetti (1989); 'Ovid: Metamorphoses, V,
529 550' and 'Bagpipe M u s i c ' from First Language (1993); for permission to
reprint the following poems l>\ M i < had I ongley 'Between I lovers', '1 aeries',
'Argos' anil 'The liutthers' from Gorse hires (1991); foi pei mission to reprint
the following poems by Medbh McGuckian: 'Marconi's Cottage' from
Marconi's Cottage (1991); 'Porcelain Bells' (extract) from Captain Lavender
(1994); for permission to reprint the following poems b y j o h n Montague: 'Like
Dolmens Round My Childhood, the Old People', ' T h e Trout', 'A Chosen
Light' (extract), 'The Same Gesture', 'LastJourney', 'Small Secrets', 'Dowager'
and 'Herbert Street Revisited' from Selected Poems (1982); for permission to
reprint the following poems by Paul Muldoon: 'Lunch with Pancho Villa'
from Mules and Early Poems (1985); 'Cuba' and 'Anseo' from Wlxy Brownlcc Left
(1981); 'Gathering Mushrooms' and 'The More a Man Has the More a Man
Wants' from Qi<oo/~(1983); 'Something Else' from Meeting the British (1987); for
permission to reprint the following poems by Eiléan Ni Chuilleanáin: 'The
Second Voyage', and 'Deaths and Engines' from The Second Voyage (1977,
1986); 'The Informant' from 77/c Magdalene Sermon (1990); ' T h e Real Thing'
and 'Saint Margaret of Cortona' from The Brazen Serpent (1994); for permission
to reprint the following poems by Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill: 'Féar Suaithinseach'
(translated by Seamus Heaney), 'An Bhábóg Bhriste (translated by John
Montague), 'An Bhean Mhídhílis' (translated by Paul Muldoon) and 'Ceist na
Teangan' (translated by Paul Muldoon) from Pharoah's Daughter (1990);
'Caitlin' (translated by Paul Muldoon) from 77/c Astrakhan Cloak (1992)

T h e publishers have made every effort to trace and acknowledge copyright

holders. We apologise for any omissions in the above list and we will welcome
additions or amendments to it for inclusion in any reprint edition.

•I.'H
 INDEX OF POETS AND TRANSLATORS

ALLEN, F e r g u s 134-6 MCDONALD, Peter 416-20

BECKETT, S a m u e l 62-5 MACGREEVY, T h o m a s 9 12
BOLAND, Eavan 272-85 MCGUCK1AN, M e d b h 330-6
CARSON, C i a r a n 308-20 MACNEICE, Louis 76-94
CLARKE, A u s t i n 13-30 MAHON, Derek 253-65
COFFEY, Brian 59-61 MEEHAN, Paula 398-403
C R O T T Y , P a t r i c k 109 trans., 111 trans., MHAC AN TSAOI, M á i r e 137-45
115 trans., 117 trans., 119 tram., 125 trans., 127 M O N T A G U E , J o h n 178-90,371 trans.
trans., 139 trans., 373 trans., 409 trans. MOONEY, Martin 421-2
DEVLIN, D e n i s 95-100 M U L D O O N , Paul 337-63, 373 trans., 377
DUH1G, Ian 395-7 trans., 379 trans.
D U N N E , Scan 404-6 MURPHY, R i c h a r d 149-58
D U R C A N , Paul 286-303 NÍ CHUILLEANÁIN, Eiléan 266-71
FALLON, Padraic 50-8 N i DHOMHNAILL, N u a l a 365-81
GRENNAN, E a m o n 248-52 Ó DIREÁIN, M á i r t í n 107-11
HARTNETT, M i c h a e l 235-47, 367 trans. Ó RÍORDÁIN, Seán 113-29
HEANEY, S e a m u s 197-219, 367 trans., Ó SEARCAIGH, C a t h a l 407-13
409 trans., 413 trans. O'DONOGHUE, Bernard 304-5
HEWITT, J o h n 66-75 ORMSBY, F r a n k 306-7
H U T C H I N S O N , Pearse 146-8 O S B O R N E , A l e x 329 trans.
IREMONGER, V a l e n t i n 130-3 PAULIN, T o m 321-5
JENKINSON, B i d d y 327-9 RIORDAN, M a u r i c e 384-9
KAVANAGH, Patrick 31-49 RODGERS, W.R. 101-6
KENNELLY, B r e n d a n 194-6 SIMMONS, J a m e s 191-3
K1NSELLA, T h o m a s 159-77 SIRR, P e t e r 414-15
LONGLEY, M i c h a e l 220-34 SWEENEY, M a t t h e w 382-3
MCCARTHY, T h o m a s 390-4
 I N D E X OF TITLES

A Bit of Brass 57 Casualty 205

A C h o s e n Light (extract) 182 C a t h l e e n (trans.) 379
A Christmas C h i l d h o o d 40 Cauliflowers 362
A Disused Shed in C o . W e x f o r d 261 Ceathrúintí Mháire Ní Ógáin 138
A D r i n k of M i l k 181 Ceist na Teangan 376
A D y i n g Art 253 Celibacy 17
A F a r e w e l l to English (extract) 237 C h i l d Burial 401
A F e w Helpful Hints 414 Chrysalides 160
A Flask of B r a n d y 50 Churning Day 198
A H a n d of S n a p s h o t s (extract) 91 Clear View in S u m m e r 131
A Local P o e t 74 Claustrophobia 124
A N u n T a k e s t h e Veil 304 C l a u s t r o p h o b i a (trans.) 125
A Paris H o n e y m o o n (extract) 307 C n o c Melleri 118
A Refusal to M o u r n 259 Cocktails 313
A R u n a w a y C o w (trans.) 409 C o u r t y a r d s i n Delft 263
A W o r d from the Loki 387 C r a n n a Foirtil 110
A Written Answer 324 C r o m w e l l (extracts) 194
Adhlacadh Mo Mháthar 114 Cuba 339
An Bhábóg Bhnste 370 C u i m h n e an Domhnaigh 108
An Bhean Mhídhílis 372
An Image from Beckett 254 D e a t h o f H e k t o r (extract) 59
An Irishman in C o v e n t r y 73 Deaths and Engines 267
A n k ' h o r Vat 95 Deireadh Ré 108
Anna Akhmatova's Funeral 421 Desertmartin 322
A n n a LifFey 279 Dowager 187
A n n i v e r s a r i e s (extract) 172 Dresden 308
A n n u n c i a t i o n s (trans.) 367
Anseo 340 Early U n f i n i s h e d S k e t c h 21
A r o u n d t h e C o r n e r from Francis Ecclesiastcs 254
Bacon 295 E l e g y for Faustina 134
Autobiography 83 E l e g y for J i m L a r k i n 46
A u t u m n J o u r n a l (extract) 78 Epic 47
A u t u m n S e q u e l (extract) 88 Era's E n d (trans.) 109

Badgers 208 Fáilte B h é a l na S i o n n a d o n Iasc 372

Bagpipe Music 317 Family C o n f e r e n c e 183
Between Hovers 228 Father Mat 42
Bo Bhradach 408 Féar S u a i t h i n s e a c h 366
Bread 236 F e v e r (trans.) 127
Breaking Points 250 Fiabhras 126
Broagh 199 Fond Memory 275
For My G r a n d m o t h e r , Bridget
Cáitheadh 328 Halpin 237
Caitlín 378 F o r W h a t for W h o m U n w a n t e d
C a o i n e a d h ( M h a c a n tSaoi) 138 (extracts) 60
C a o i n e a d h ( O Searcaigh) 412 Four Deer 249
Caravan 222 F r e e h o l d (extract) 66
Cascando 62 F r o m t h e C a n t o n of E x p e c t a t i o n .'I \
From the Frontier of Writing 212 Midnight Flowers 278
F r o m t h e Irish 193 Milk 384
F r o z e n Stiff (trans.) 127 M i r a c u l o u s Grass (trans.) 367
F u n e r a l Rites 202 Mr Nabokov's Memory 391
M o o n s n o w ' 7 7 (trans.) 247
Gaeltacht 147 M o r n i n g Call 156
Gateposts 331 Mossbawn: T w o Poems in Dedication
Gathering Mushrooms 341 (extract) 201
Ghost T o w n 224 M o u n t M e l l e r a y (trans.) 119
M y M o t h e r ' s Burial (trans.) 115
Hamlet 314 m y w a y i s i n t h e sand f l o w i n g 63
H e r b e r t Street Revisited 188
H o m a g e to H i e r o n y m u s Bosch 9 Na Piopaí Créafóige 408
Home 306 N o t e s from t h e L a n d o f t h e D e a d
Homeric Poems 229 (extracts) 160
H o u s e on a Cliff 92
O f f t h e Back of a Lorry 323
I have exhausted the delighted O n e (extracts) 167
range . . . 236 O n e F o n d E m b r a c e (extract) 174
Icarus 132 O n e of the Boys 191
In M c m o r i a m 220 O u t o f Ireland (extract) 174
Innocence 48 O v i d : Metamorphoses, V, 5 2 9 - 5 5 0 317
I'r H e n Iaith A'i C h a n e u o n 395
Passing t h e C r e m a t o r i u m 306
Keeping Going 217 Peacetime 419
K e r r ' s Ass 48 P e n a l Law 21
Kiltartan L e g e n d 51 P e r s e p h o n e , 1978 392
P o r c e l a i n Bells (extract) 334
Laburnum 402 P o t Burial 321
L a m e n t ( M h a c an tSaoi, trans.) 139
L a m e n t ( O S e a r c a i g h , trans.) 413 Rathlin 264
L a m e n t for T a d h g C r o n i n ' s C h i l d r e n 238 Recessional 11
Last J o u r n e y 184 R e f o r n i a Agraria 396
Lent 103 Renewal by her Element 99
L i g h t e n i n g s (extracts) 216 Reo 126
Like D o l m e n s R o u n d M y C h i l d h o o d , t h e River & Fountain 231
Old People 179 Roundelay 65
Listen. T h i s I s t h e N o i s e o f M y t h 272
Little Elegy 96 Sailing to an Island 150
Lives 256 St C h r i s t o p h e r 21
L u n c h w i t h P a n c h o Villa 338 Saint M a r g a r e t o f C o r t o n a 270
Scéala 366
Malaga 146 Seals at H i g h Island 154
Malairt 116 Siollabadh 124
M a n L y i n g on a W a l l 225 Six N u n s D i e i n C o n v e n t I n f e r n o
Marconi's Cottage 333 (extract) 297
Martha Blake 18 Small Secrets 185
Martha Blake at Fifty-One 22 Sneachta Gealai '77 246
M a r y H o g a n ' s Q u a t r a i n s (trans.) 139 Snow (MacNeice) 78
Mayfly 77 S n o w (Rodgers) 101
M a y o M o n o l o g u e s (extract) 227 S o a p Suds 02
M e e t i n g Point 82 S o m e t h i n g Else 361
M e m o i r s ol a T u r c o m a n Diplom.it S o m e t i m e s Feel 148
(extract) OK Spray (trans.) •>.">
M e m o r y ol Sunday (trans) Si II ,..,/«i ')|

Ml
State F u n e r a l 390 T h e Pattern 398
S t o n y G r e y Soil 32 T h e Planter's D a u g h t e r 16
Stornipetrel 155 T h e P o e t o n t h e Island 152
Stormy Night 105 T h e Price o f S t o n e (extracts) 156
S t r o n g B e a m s (trans.) 111 T h e Ram's H o r n 68
Substance and S h a d o w 73 T h e Real T h i n g 269
Sunday in Great T e w 416 T h e Same Gesture 183
S w e e n e y R c d i v i v u s (extract) 211 T h e Second Voyage 266
S w i t c h (trans.) 117 T h e Seed-picture 330
S y d n e y Place (extracts) 404 T h e S h a n n o n E s t u a r y W e l c o m e s t h e Fish
Syllabling (trans.) 125 (trans.) 373
T h e Sitting 332
Tarry Flynn 39 T h e S n o w Party 258
T h e Battle o f A u g h r i m (extract) 153 T h e Standing Trains 393
T h e Birthplace 210 T h e Straying Student 20
T h e Black Lace Fan M y M o t h e r G a v e T h e Suicide 93
Me 276 T h e Tollund Man 199
T h e B r o k e n D o l l (trans.) 371 The Trout 180
T h e C a v e o f N i g h t (extract) 188 T h e Twelfth of July 39
T h e C l a y Pipes (trans.) 409 T h e Unfaithful W i f e (trans.) 373
The Colony 69 T h e Weakness 305
T h e Fall 135 T h e Y o u n g W o m a n o f Beare
T h e Flower Master 332 (extract) 14
T h e G r e a t H u n g e r (extracts) 33 T h i s H o u r e H e r Vigill 130
T h e Harvest B o w 209 T h r e e H o u s e s (extract) 55
T h e Hat Factory 286 Time Out 385
T h e H a u l i e r ' s W i f e M e e t s Jesus o n t h e Tiresias (extract) 27
Road Near M o o n e 290 To the Building Trade 382
T h e Hospital 49 T o t h e M a n After t h e H a r r o w 31
T h e Informant 268 Totem 248
T h e L a n g u a g e Issue (trans.) 377 Tractatus 265
T h e Late M r C h a r l e s L y n c h T u b e Ride to Martha's 383
Digresses 301 T u l l y n o e : T é t e - a - T é t e i n t h e Parish
T h e Latin Lesson 277 Priest's P a r l o u r 289
T h e Levite and His C o n c u b i n e at
Gibeah 301 W e s t S t r a n d Visions 192
T h e Libertine 84 W e s t e r n Landscape 85
T h e Linen Industry 227 w h a t w o u l d 1 d o w i t h o u t this w o r l d
T h e Lonely T o w e r 324 faceless i n c u r i o u s 64
T h e Lost H e i f e r 13 Wheels within Wheels 215
T h e M a n w h o W r o t e Yeats, t h e M a n w h o W h e r e Art Is a M i d w i f e 322
Wrote Mozart 239 W o r d s and M u s i c (extract) 64
T h e M e s s e n g e r (extract) 173 Wounds 223
T h e M o r e a M a n Has the M o r e a M a n Wreaths 225
Wants 343
The Mouth 313 Yeats a t A t h e n r y P e r h a p s 52
The Net 104

I 12
 I N D E X O F FIRST LINES

A b h á b ó i g í n bhristc ins an t o b a r 370 At n o o n , in t h e d e a d c e n t r e of a

A b o a t that d i d n o t r o c k or w o b b l e faith 322
once 217
A full year since, 1 t o o k this e a g e r city 73 B a r o m e t e r of my m o o d s today,
A h o r n h u n g on an o a k 57 mayfly 77
A light is b u r n i n g late 188 B a r t l e y C o s t e l l o , e i g h t y years old 147
A l o n g t i m e since t h e last s c r e a m c u t Basho, c o m i n g 258
short 264 B e f o r e t h e day is e v e r y w h e r e 18
A m a n will k e e p a h o r s e for prestige 331 B e f o r e t h e sirens started, h e was late 383
A m o o n y o u c o u l d h a n g a coat on 406 B e f o r e t h e s p e c t a c l e d professor
A nurse was in a hospital 125 snipped 158
A p o e t by t h e fireside cries 406 B h i banaltra in o t h a r l a n n 124
A rickety c h i m n e y suggests 222 B o m b i n g at about ninety miles an h o u r
A thick crust, c o a r s e - g r a i n e d as l i m e s t o n e with the exhaust skittering 313
rough-cast 198 Built for a c o t t o n k i n g , w h o l o v e d t h e
A w o m a n w i t h n o face w a l k e d i n t o t h e view 157
light 9 B u r n O v i d w i t h t h e rest. L o v e r s will
A year ago I fell in l o v e w i t h t h e find 21
functional w a r d 49
A z i p p o lighter 323 C h a o i n m é n a cuileatacha a r u c h t m o
A c h a n i b e a d gafa as an lion seo 138 mháthara 412
After Haul D u r c a n left his wife 301 C h i l d that his s t r e n g t h u p b o r e 21
After t h e n o o s e , a n d t h e black diary- C h i m grian a n D o m h n a i g h a g
deeds 153 taitneamh 108
After y o u b r o u g h t h e r h o m e w i t h y o u r Christ's teeth ascended with him into
first child 156 heaven 226
A g e is w h e n to a m a n 64 C l a y is t h e w o r d a n d clay is t h e flesh 33
' A h , h e was a g r a n d m a n . ' 289 C o i n n i g h do thalamh a anam liom 110
All S o u l s ' o v e r , t h e roast seeds e a t e n , I ' C o m e h e r e , ' said T u r n b u l l , 'till y o u see
set 248 t h e sadness 117
A n d h e r e t h e cross o n t h e w i n d o w m e a n s C o n s i d e r his s o n g 61
myself 91 Cuirim mo dhóchas ar snámh 376
A n d n o t e v e n w h e n w e ran o v e r t h e
badger 228 D á m b a m i s e a n barruisce g h a b h f a i n n
A n d this, ladies a n d g e n t l e m e n , w h o m 1 c h u g a m do bharraicíní 328
am n o t in fact 93 D ' é i r i g h s é d ú t h u i r s e a c h déarfainn 408
A n d w h e r e n o s n o w h a d fallen 60 Do chuimhnigh sí 366
A r o u n d t h e c o r n e r f r o m Francis D o p h i o c s é suas m é 372
Bacon 295
As, e v e n t o - d a y , t h e a i r m a n , feeling t h e Early, each m o r n i n g , M a r t h a Blake 22
plane sweat 132 Easter light i n t h e c o n v e n t g a r d e n 277
As I w e n t o u t o n e frosty m o r n i n g 127 Hither i n c o g n i t o a n d d e s p e r a t e 324
As usual, t h e c l o c k in T h e C l o c k Bar was a E l e v e n o ' c l o c k a n d t h e bar i s e m p t y 286
g o o d l e w m i n u t e s last 314 E l i z a b e t h , frigidly s t r e t c h e d 130
A s y o u plaited t h e harvest b o w 209 Endless infusions, silver strainers 405
At lout in t h e m o r n i n g lie w a k e s W t Enough 174
Ai night, s o m e t i m e s , w h e n I c a n n o t E v e n n o w tlicii' .IIC pl.H is w l i e i e ,i
sleep IH.» thought might grow '<•!
E v e n i n g s e v e r m o r e w i l l i n g lapse i n t o m y I a m w a l k i n g b a c k w a r d s i n t o t h e future
world's evening 98 like a G r e e k 231
I c r i e d o n m y m o t h e r ' s breast, cried
Faustina, i f that w a s y o u r n a m e , y o u are sore 413
dead 134 I d r a n k firmly 168
Fifteen m i n u t e s o r t h e r e a b o u t s 172 I d w e l l in this leaky W e s t e r n castle 187
:
Fir na sce al mo lean 108 I g o d o w n step b y step 278
First c a m e t h e l e g i o n s , t h e n t h e I h a d no gift for it 55
colonists 69 I have exhausted the delighted range 236
First t i m e o u t 256 I h a v e lived in i m p o r t a n t places, t i m e s 47
Flat on t h e b a n k I p a r t e d 180 I h a v e l o c a t e d it, m y g h o s t t o w n 224
F o r m y f i r s t p o e m t h e r e are specific I h a v e t u r n e d to t h e landscape b e c a u s e
images 391 m e n disappoint me 68
F o r t y - t w o years a g o (to m e i f t o n o o n e 1 heard n e w w o r d s prayed at cows 211
else 94 I live i n t h e t o w n o f C a h i r 290
F o u r d e e r lift u p t h e i r lovely h e a d s t o I place m y h o p e o n t h e w a t e r 377
me 249 I see t h e S u n d a y sun b e a t i n g 109
F r o m the w i n d o w s of a standing I s h o u l d e r e d a k i n d of m a n h o o d 202
train 393 1 wanted to teach h i m the names of
flowers 227
' G a i b h i l e i t h , ' arsa T u r n b u l l , ' g o b h f e i c e I was g o i n g up to say s o m e t h i n g 163
tú an b r ó n 116 I w a s sent in to see h e r 164
G i p s y of t h e sea 155 I will w a l k w i t h a l o v e r of w i s d o m 96
G l ó r goil ar an n g a o i t h 138 I'd say h e ' d h a d t o o m u c h 409
G o d , y o u c o u l d g r o w t o l o v e it, G o d - If I o n c e g o t free of this n e t 139
fearing, G o d - 254 If I w e r e t h e s p r e a d i n g t i d e sheets I w o u l d
G r i a n an M h e i t h i m h in u l l g h o r t 114 o v e r w h e l m y o u r insteps 329
In a m e a d o w 42
H a l f - w a y d o w n y o u lose t h e sense o f In aice an fhiona 124
falling 419 In crisp italic, m e t i c u l o u s a n d signed 239
H a v i n g sat all m o r n i n g at t h e bay I n d o g g e r e l a n d s t o u t let m e h o n o u r this
window 301 country 85
H e c a m e lilting d o w n t h e brae w i t h a I n m y c h i l d h o o d trees w e r e g r e e n 83
b l a c k t h o r n stick t h e t h i c k of a In 1 9 3 6 396
shotgun 317 I n o u r v e r y o w n little civil w a r 194
H e f o l l o w e d t h e i r lilting stanzas 74 In that instant 254
H e has m a r r i e d again. H i s wife 321 In t h e b r i g h t b r o a d Swiss glare I stand
He lived in a small f a r m - h o u s e 259 listening 11
H e ran a g o o d s h o p , a n d h e d i e d 226 In t h e g i r d e r e d d a r k 181
H e started c o m i n g o n t o m e 373 I n t h e old days w i t h m a r r i e d w o m e n ' s
H e w a s p r e p a r i n g a n U l s t e r fry for stockings 84
breakfast 225 In the third decade of M a r c h 322
He w o u l d drink by himself 205 I n d o o r s t h e t a n g of a tiny oil l a m p .
H e a v y w i t h leaves t h e g a r d e n b u s h e s Outdoors 92
again 131 'Is it really a r e v o l u t i o n , t h o u g h ? ' 338
H e r eyes w e r e c o i n s o f p o r t e r a n d h e r Is this t h e street? N e v e r a sign of life 105
West 237 It is an A u g u s t e v e n i n g , in W i c k l o w 173
H e r i r o n beats 236 It j a n g l e s in a m i l d b r e e z e 404
H e r e are t w o p i c t u r e s from m y father's It l o o k s to me like a h e r o ' s w e l c o m e 421
head 223 It was a s c h o o l w h e r e all t h e c h i l d r e n w o r e
H e r e ' s to the building trade 382 darned worsted 275
Homer where born where buried of It was t h e first gift he e v e r g a v e h e r 276
w h o m the son 59 It was the frosty early h o u r s w h e n finally 305
H o r s e B o y l e w a s called H o r s e B o y l e It's t i m e to get back to t h e < .n Already, al
b e c a u s e of his b r o t h e r M u l e MM half-past t h r e e 416
J i m e e n C o n n o r , the butcher, is c o m i n g O n c e i n a seaside t o w n w i t h t i m e t o kill 66
round 195 O n c e , i n t h e G i a n t ' s R i n g , I closed m y
J u n e sun i n a n o r c h a r d 115 eyes 306
O n e side o f t h e p o t a t o - p i t s w a s w h i t e w i t h
Léim an bhradáin 372 frost 40
Like an old, w r e c k e d s p o n g e - d i v e r O u r last free s u m m e r w e m o o n e d a b o u t a t
leaking 148 odd hours 160
Like d o l m e n s r o u n d m y c h i l d h o o d , t h e o l d O u r y o u t h w a s gay b u t r o u g h 191
people 179 O u t o f t h e g r e y air g r e w s n o w a n d m o r e
Like f o x g l o v e s i n t h e s c h o o l o f t h e grass snow 101
moon 332
Life, t h e s t o r y g o e s 279 P e n e l o p e pulls h o m e 51
Little has c o m e d o w n t o m e o f hers 398 P e r s e p h o n e ate s e v e n p o m e g r a n a t e seeds.
Look 167 S o w h a t ? I'll tell y o u w h a t 317
Poor Paddy Maguire, a fourteen-hour
M a i d i n sheaca g h a b h a s a m a c h 126 day 36
M a r y M a g d a l e n e , t h a t easy w o m a n 103 P u l l i n g u p flax after t h e b l u e f l o w e r s h a v e
M a y b e m o r n i n g lightens over 237 fallen 227
M c féin faoin aer san o i c h e 246
M o r e often t h a n n o t h e stops a t t h e Q u i c k , w o m a n , in your net 104
h e a d r i g t o light 362
M o s t terrible was o u r h e r o in battle Riverbank, the long rigs 199
;
blows 193 R o s a l i n d , in a négligc e 21
M y eldest sister a r r i v e d h o m e t h a t
morning 339 S e a m u s o f t h e S m a r t Suit, b o x p l a y e r ,
M y father, let n o similes eclipse 220 made 174
M y g n e f o n t h e m e n o f t h e stories 109 She had become, t h e p r e a c h e r h o l l o w s his
M y half-sister c o m e s t o m e t o b e voice 270
painted 332 She r e m e m b e r e d to the very e n d 367
M y son s w i n g s f r o m t h e black Small a n d w a t c h f u l as a l i g h t h o u s e 333
railings 404 S o m e d a y I will g o t o A a r h u s 199
m y w a y i s i n t h e sand f l o w i n g 63 S o m e o n e is l e a v i n g t o w n as clean
Myself outside at night 247 smoke 306
S r a n n t a r n a c h na s t o i r m e i M e l l e r i
N e x t to the wine 125 aréir 118
N i chasfaidh tusa t h a r t d o c h l o i g c a n n 408 S t a n d y o u r g r o u n d , soul 111
Ni fhéadfá i a t h a b h a i r t in a o n áit leat 378 Still l o o k i n g for a s c o o t - h o l e , P h e m i o s t h e
N i g h t m a r e leaves fatigue 78 poet 231
N o t w i t h p u b l i c w o r d s can his ' S t r o l l i n g o n e day, b e y o n d t h e K a l e n d s , o n
greatness 46 M o u n t Cyllcne 27
N o w leave t h e c h e c k - r e i n s slack 31
N u a i r a bhís i do shagart naofa 366 T a slcnbhte n a leapa m ó s ard 126
T e l l t h e m w h a t y o u like. T e l l t h e m 414
O little b r o k e n doll, d r o p p e d in t h e well 371 T h a t A u g u s t a f t e r n o o n t h e family 390
O s t o n y g r e y soil of M o n a g h a n 32 T h a t day t h e sails o f t h e ship w e r e
Oblique light on the trite, on b n c k and torn 238
tile 263 ' T h a t d a y w o u l d skin a fairy 253
O d y s s e u s rested o n his o a r a n d saw 266 That m o r n i n g early I ran t h r o u g h briars 304
( )n a b r o w n isle ol l o u g h C o m b 17 The annals say: w h e n t h e m o n k s o f
( )n a h o l y day w h e n sails w e r e b l o w i n g Clonmacnoise 216
southward 20 The a n t l e r e d forests 95
( )n .1 wet night, laden with bunks lot I h e Hunk <>( Exits, l l l l l . K l l l o u s l y

higg-ir.' 152 copied 269

on .ill ih.ii strand ft5 I In b o o m a b o v e my kne< •• lifts, and t h e
( >n .in apple ripe ' " i>• • 1111 >< i m o r n i n g I ' ' b o it 150
T h e c a l a m i t y o f seals b e g i n s w i t h j a w s 154 T h i s is the story of a m a n and w o m a n 272
T h e deal table w h e r e h e w r o t e , s o small a n d T h i s n o t e b o o k i n w h i c h h e used t o
plain 210 sketch 384
T h e first real grip I e v e r g o t on t h i n g s 215 This poem by Rupert Brookeborough 324
T h e G a r d e n o f E d e n (described i n t h e T h r o u g h lane o r black a r c h w a y 14
Bible) 135 T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else 82
The hawthorn morning moving 99 T o Wales o n c e m o r e , t h o u g h not o n holiday
T h e late M a r c h mist is an a n g r y now 88
Cerberus 392
T h e L o k i t o n g u e d o e s n o t l e n d itself 387 Underneath the photograph 268
T h e m a n alone at the third floor Up from t h e trawlers in t h e fishdock t h e y walk
window 192 to my house 156
T h e m o u n t a i n s o f t h e b e d are h i g h 127
T h e n o o n heat i n t h e yard 160 W e b o r r o w e d t h e loan o f K e r r ' s b i g ass 48
T h e passport p h o t o b o o t h f l a s h e s 4 0 5 W e came d o w n above the houses 267
T h e pianist's funeral passes 405 W e h a d o u r t o w e r s t o o , a large 52
T h e p i p e r c o m i n g from far a w a y is y o u 217 W e h a v e f l o a t e d t o t h e surface o f M o n e t ' s
T h e p o e t i s w o r k i n g upstairs 405 pond 307
T h e public servant of m e n ' s private parts 157 W e lived d e e p i n a land o f o p t a t i v e
T h e rain c o m e s f l a p p i n g t h r o u g h t h e moods 213
yard 341 W e m a y c o m e o u t i n t o t h e O c t o b e r reality,
T h e rifled honeycomb 188 Imagination 36
T h e r o o m was suddenly r i c h and t h e great b a y - We resided in a L o r e t o c o n v e n t in the centre
w i n d o w was 78 o f D u b l i n city 297
T h e s a l m o n ' s leap 373 W e stand t o g e t h e r 184
T h e scent of unseen jasmine on the w a r m W h a t must they have g r o w n to n o w 404
night beach 146 w h a t w o u l d I d o w i t h o u t this w o r l d faceless
T h e school is g o n e from Belgrave Place 406 incurious 64
T h e s n o r i n g o f t h e s t o r m i n M e l l e r a y last W h e n h e f o u n d Laertes a l o n e o n t h e tidy
night 119 terrace, h o e i n g 229
T h e s o u n d o f tears o n t h e w i n d 139 W h e n h e h a d m a d e sure t h e r e w e r e n o
T h e t i g h t n e s s a n d t h e nilness r o u n d t h a t survivors in his h o u s e 230
space 212 W h e n I g o d o w n t o W a l e s for t h e l o n g b a n k
T h e Twelfth of July, the voice of Ulster holiday 395
speaking 39 W h e n n i g h t stirred at sea 16
T h e t w o y o u n g o n e s fed, b a t h e d , z i p p e r e d , W h e n the badger glimmered away 208
read to and sung to. Asleep 385 W h e n t h e black h e r d s o f t h e rain w e r e
' T h e w o r l d is e v e r t h i n g that is t h e case' 265 grazing 13
T h e r e is a bareness in t h e i m a g e s 73 W h e n t h e M a s t e r w a s calling t h e roll 340
T h e r e is a secret r o o m 183 W h e n t h e wall b e t w e e n h e r a n d g h o s t 183
T h e r e w a s a sunlit a b s e n c e 201 W h e n y o u r l o b s t e r was lifted o u t o f t h e
T h e r e w a s this h e a d h a d this m o u t h h e k e p t tank 361
s h o o t i n g off 313 Where I work 185
T h e r e w e r e o t h e r separations, a n d s o m a n y o f w h y not merely the despaired of 62
them 229
T h e r e you were in your purple Y o u c a n ' t t a k e h e r o u t for a n i g h t o n t h e
vestments 367 town 379
They all want to break at some point 2 5 0 Y o u c o u l d d r a w a straight line f r o m t h e
T h e y laughed at o n e I loved 48 heels 225
T h i s b r a n d o f soap has t h e s a m e smell a s o n c e Y o u , said t h e L i o n w o m a n 50
in t h e b i g 92 Y o u walk into an ordinary r o o m 402
This death you have nourished is t o o You w o n ' t be the o n e to turn away w h e n
(
orderly 334 death 40 >
T h i s is my portrait ol Joanna since t h e Y O I I I coffin l o o k e d unreal 401
split 130

I W.
• A BLACKSTAFF PAPERBACK ORIGINAL •

INCLUDING AMONG OTHERS

SAMUEL BECKETT
EAVAN BOLAND

Irish achievement in poetry. CIARAN CARSON

A T T S T T N T f l A R K F
From the gritty directness of
Patrick Kavanagh to the more SEAN D U N N E
formal cadences of John Hewitt and
the sly lyricism of Nuala Ni PAUL D U R C A N
T>hr»tnhnní11 fhi« <»ví-irino- n p w
MICHAEL HARTNETT
SEAMUS HEANEY
J O H N HEWITT
figures like Clarke, MacNeice and
O Ríordáin are brought into PATRICK KAVANAGH
relationship for the first time, and
the remarkable explosion of B R E N D A N KENNELLY
writing north and south of the THOMAS KINSELLA
border in the last thirty years is
reflected in the work of poets like MICHAEL LONGLEY
Kinsella, Heaney, Longley, Durcan,
MEDBH MCGUCKIAN
Carson, O Searcaigh and Sirr.
LOUIS MACNEICE
DEREK MAHON

i tiuui .vict.-1i<ui, ciuu u a c i i t v c i s c uy PAULA MEEHAN

writers like Máirtín O Direáin and
J O H N MONTAGUE
Máire Mhac an tSaoi. All the Irish
language p o e m s appear with PAUL M U L D O O N
facing translations.
RICHARD MURPHY
Short biographical critical essays
EILÉAN NÍ CHUILLEANÁIN
on each poet and a searching and
fair introduction make this an NUALA NÍ DHOMHNAILL
SEÁN Ó RÍORDÁIN
TOM PAULIN
W.R. RODGERS

I M I N I) HV./.ll '»61