Topic: The Strand at Lough Beg | |
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The Strand at Lough Beg ~ In Memory of Colm McCartney
Across that strand of ours the cattle graze Up to their bellies in an early mist And now they turn their unbewildered gaze To where we work our way through squeaking sedge Drowning in dew. Like a dull blade with its edge Honed bright, Lough Beg half shines under the haze. I turn because the sweeping of your feet Has stopped behind me, to find you on your knees With blood and roadside muck in your hair and eyes, Then kneel in front of you in brimming grass And gather up cold handfuls of the dew To wash you, cousin. I dab you clean with moss Fine as the drizzle out of a low cloud. I lift you under the arms and lay you flat. With rushes that shoot green again, I plait Green scapulars to wear13 . over your shroud. Seamus Heaney April 1939 – 30 August 2013) Irish poet, playwright and translator. He received the 1995 Nobel Prize in Literature |
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