Seamus Heaney (1939 – 2013)
All year the flax-dam festered in the heart
Of the townland; green and heavy headed
Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.
Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun.
Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottles
Wove a strong gauze of sound around the smell.
And you walked among us and said nothing,
with your public stare,
and your private thoughts of getting home to Belfast
whee you were nothing but a stranger.
We have no prairies
To slice a big sun at evening--
Everywhere the eye concedes to
Encrouching horizon,
Is wooed into the cyc