O stony grey soil of Monaghan <br />The laugh from my love you thieved; <br />You took the gay child of my passion <br />And gave me your clod-conceived. <br /> <br />You clogged the feet of my boyhood <br />And I believed that my stumble <br />Had the poise and stride of Apollo <br />And his voice my thick tongued mumble. <br /> <br />You told me the plough was immortal! <br />O green-life conquering plough! <br />The mandril stained, your coulter blunted <br />In the smooth lea-field of my brow. <br /> <br />You sang on steaming dunghills <br />A song of cowards' brood, <br />You perfumed my clothes with weasel itch, <br />You fed me on swinish food <br /> <br />You flung a ditch on my vision <br />Of beauty, love and truth. <br />O stony grey soil of Monaghan <br />You burgled my bank of youth! <br /> <br />Lost the long hours of pleasure <br />All the women that love young men. <br />O can I stilll stroke the monster's back <br />Or write with unpoisoned pen. <br /> <br />His name in these lonely verses <br />Or mention the dark fields where <br />The first gay flight of my lyric <br />Got caught in a peasant's prayer. <br /> <br />Mullahinsa, Drummeril, Black Shanco- <br />Wherever I turn I see <br />In the stony grey soil of Monaghan <br />Dead loves that were born for me.<br /><br />Patrick Kavanagh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stony-grey-soil/
