Patrick Kavanagh

Buffalo

The Dance

The high-falluting spin
The dance - 
I am partnered by spirit
Chaste as fire
And flash my own dream-impotence
Like an unearthed electric wire

Once there was rich
Reality of pain
Saying each morning at my bedroom do[or]
The sun is risen again.

Eye Wisdom

If she should come to me again I'd be
wise to the veiléd vanities of woman,
I'd listen with my eyes to symphony
sculptured purely from affliction human,
I'd stand without the gates of pity-pain
on greenless earth, without curse or care
or prayer, if she should rapture me again
The might of mind would flood the wind of her.

Genesis

Ah when will they come again,
Their arms stretched out before them like soft, rather hypocrite men
Coaxing the neighbours creeping babe to chance
The little legs?

In The Park

Today I sat on a withered green seat
Somewhere in the Park
Where the foliage of the trees was most pronounced, so the heat
Of June's sun was no more than a spark
Mirrored in a pool of old glass.

Innocence

A little place
Though in a dated fashion,
A spirit-cell
Secure from rowdy passion,
Or when thought-winds blow stormy
A convent for me.

Love

If she should come to me again I'd be
wise to the veiléd vanities of woman,
I'd listen with my eyes to symphony
sculptured purely from affliction human,
I'd stand without the gates of pity-pain
on greenless earth, without curse or care
or prayer, if she should rapture me again
The might of mind would flood the wind of her.

The Monk (1)

Winter encloses me,
I am fenced
The light the laugh the dance
Against.

I am like a monk
In a grey cell
Copying out my soul's
Queer miracle

What goes on out there
In the light
Is less than [] blue-bottle's flirtation
Yet, spite
I would be a blue-bottle
Or a house-fly
And let the monk the []
In cobwebs lie.
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