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

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