Poem by Patrick Kavanagh

Wet Evening in April

The birds sang in the wet trees
And I listened to them it was a hundred years from now
And I was dead and someone else was listening to them.
But I was glad I had recorded for him
The melancholy.

1. Memory of My Father
2. Epic
3. Stony Grey Soil
4. On Raglan Road
5. Advent

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