Song - Seamus Heaney

A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the by-road and the main road
Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance
Stand off among the rushes.

There are the mud-flowers of dialect
And the immortelles of perfect pitch
And that moment when the bird sings very close
To the music of what happens.







Copyright © The Estate of Seamus Heaney, 1979. Used by permission of Faber & Faber Ltd. 

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