Patrick Kavanagh

Untitled (We have sown in the dry dust 2)

We have sown in the dry dust
of yesterday our seed
of vision or foolish jest
or actual deed
we probe the heart of Life
but it does not bleed.

In the memory-graveyard
the headstones stand
to truth to beauty to love
to every grand
emotion that was responsive once
to the sensual hand.

There is no unbefouled
Stretch of time
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