The bicycles go by in twos and threes - <br />There's a dance in Billy Brennan's barn to-night, <br />And there's the half-talk code of mysteries <br />And the wink-and-elbow language of delight. <br />Half-past eight and there is not a spot <br />Upon a mile of road, no shadow thrown <br />That might turn out a man or woman, not <br />A footfall tapping secrecies of stone. <br />I have what every poet hates in spite <br />Of all the solemn talk of contemplation. <br />Oh, Alexander Selkirk knew the plight <br />Of being king and government and nation. <br />A road, a mile of kingdom, I am king <br />Of banks and stones and every blooming thing.<br /><br />Patrick Kavanagh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/inniskeen-road-july-evening/
