Patrick Kavanagh

To The New Men

Just such a philosophy I needed, 
The organised doubt is a strong fist,
Like a Connaughtman's, holding the four corners
Of my thoughts handkerchief.
And still like a Connaughtman I can go
To the harvests of potatoes or religion
And not be stranded, with my word posessions [sic]
In some scatter-brained region.
Thank you friends who have assembled
That which blew in the futile air
We are not all lost souls - survival
Hopes in our dreams. I have gone through the mill
And wondered if it was worth while
Being brave and a man of principle.
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