Poem by Patrick Kavanagh

The Weary Horse

The weary horse on which I ride
Is language vitiate
That cannot take in its stride
Bank, stream and gate.

Its eyes have the blank look
Of a memoried fool,
Or a Victorian book
In a modern school.

1. Wet Evening in April
2. On Raglan Road
3. Advent
4. Memory of My Father
5. Stony Grey Soil

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