Patrick Kavanagh


Everything I look at I make
A mirror of
Wherein to see my soul in all its seasons.
A tree,
A woman,
A masterpiece of art
Are nothing of themselves.
Only when these
Throw back my image glorified
Saint frenzied high
Only then
I love them
Call them inviolable truths.

§ Marked ‘The Ploughman’, ‘2nd version’.

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