Patrick Kavanagh

In Memory of My Mother

 (Died November 15.1945)
                        By Patrick Kavanagh.

You will have the road gate open, the front door ajar
The kettle boiling and a table set
By the window looking out at the sycamores - 
And your loving heart lying in wait.

For me coming up among the poplar trees.
You'll know my breathing and my walk
And it will be a summer evening on those roads,
Lonely with leaves of thought.

We will be choked with the grief of things growing,
The silence of dark-green air
Life too rich - the nettles, docks and thistles
All answering the prodigal's prayer.

You will know I am coming though I send no word,
For you were lover who could tell
A man's thoughts - my thoughts - though I hid them - 
Through you I knew Woman and did not fear her spell.
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