Patrick Kavanagh

Twisted Furrows

She walked with me yesterday
Guiding my plough
Straight from headland to headland….
Lament with me now.

My furrow twists like falsehood
The field's length and breadth.
O straight is truth I cry out
But my cry is death - 

She will not come again
My furrow to guide,
For I have sinned against Guidance
And my plough has lied.

She will not come again
Till my field is ploughed - 
I have not gone humbly cheerful
With shoulders bowed.
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