Heaney, Seamus Collected Poems (1999)
Collected Poems of Seamus Heaney
Heaney, Seamus: Death of a Naturalist (1991) , Faber and Faber Bibliographic details Bibliographic details for the Electronic File Heaney, Seamus: Death of a Naturalist (1991) Cambridge 1999 Chadwyck-Healey (a Bell & Howell Information and Learning Company) The Faber Poetry Library / Twentieth-Century English Poetry Copyright ? 2000 Bell & Howell Information and Learning Company. All Rights Reserved. Do not export or print from this database without checking the Copyright Conditions to see what is permitted.
Bibliographic details for the Source Text Heaney, Seamus Seamus Heaney (Faber and Faber form) (1939-) Death of a Naturalist London Faber and Faber 1991 (14), 44 p.
Preliminaries and introductory matter omitted ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1991, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd
ISBN 0571090249 Volume [Page 1] Heaney, Seamus:Digging (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Between my finger and my thumb 2 The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
3 Under my window, a clean rasping sound
4 When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
5 My father, digging. I look down
6 Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
7 Bends low, comes up twenty years away
8 Stooping in rhythm through potato drills 9 Where he was digging.
10 The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
11 Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
12 He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
13 To scatter new potatoes that we picked, 14 Loving their cool hardness in our hands.
15 By God, the old man could handle a spade.
16 Just like his old man.
17 My grandfather cut more turf in a day 18 Than any other man on Toner's bog.
19 Once I carried him milk in a bottle
20 Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
21 To drink it, then fell to right away [Page 2]
22 Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
23 Over his shoulder, going down and down 24 For the good turf. Digging.
25 The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
26 Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge 27 Through living roots awaken in my head.
28 But I've no spade to follow men like them.
29 Between my finger and my thumb 30 The squat pen rests.
31 I'll dig with it. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 3] Heaney, Seamus:Death of a Naturalist (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 All year the flax-dam festered in the heart
2 Of the townland; green and heavy headed 3 Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.
4 Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun.
5 Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottles
8 But best of all was the warm thick slobber
9 Of frogspawn that grew like clotted water
10 In the shade of the banks. Here, every spring,
11 I would fill jampotfuls of the jellied
12 Specks to range on window-sills at home,
13 On shelves at school, and wait and watch until
14 The fattening dots burst into nimble-
15 Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how
16 The daddy frog was called a bullfrog,
17 And how he croaked, and how the mammy frog
18 Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was
19 Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too
20 For they were yellow in the sun and brown 21 In rain.
22 Then one hot day when fields were rank
23 With cowdung in the grass, the angry frogs
24 Invaded the flax-dam; I ducked through hedges
25 To a coarse croaking that I had not heard 26 Before. The air was thick with a bass chorus.
27 Right down the dam, gross-bellied frogs were cocked [Page 4]
28 On sods; their loose necks pulsed like sails. Some hopped:
29 The slap and plop were obscene threats. Some sat 30 Poised like mud grenades, their blunt heads farting.
31 I sickened, turned, and ran. The great slime kings
32 Were gathered there for vengeance, and I knew 33 That if I dipped my hand the spawn would clutch it.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 5] Heaney, Seamus:The Barn (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Threshed corn lay piled like grit of ivory 2 Or solid as cement in two-lugged sacks.
3 The musty dark hoarded an armoury 4 Of farmyard implements, harness, plough-socks.
6 There were no windows, just two narrow shafts
7 Of gilded motes, crossing, from air-holes slit
8 High in each gable. The one door meant no draughts 9 All summer when the zinc burned like an oven.
10 A scythe's edge, a clean spade, a pitch-fork's prongs: 11 Slowly bright objects formed when you went in.
12 Then you felt cobwebs clogging up your lungs
13 And scuttled fast into the sunlit yard---
14 And into nights when bats were on the wing
15 Over the rafters of sleep, where bright eyes stared 16 From piles of grain in corners, fierce, unblinking.
17 The dark gulfed like a roof-space. I was chaff 18 To be pecked up when birds shot through the air-slits.
19 I lay face-down to shun the fear above.
20 The two-lugged sacks moved in like great blind rats. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 6] Heaney, Seamus:An Advancement of Learning (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 I took the embankment path 2 (As always, deferring
3 The bridge). The river nosed past,
4 Pliable, oil-skinned, wearing 5 A transfer of gables and sky.
6 Hunched over the railing,
7 Well away from the road now, I 8 Considered the dirty-keeled swans.
9 Something slobbered curtly, close,
10 Smudging the silence: a rat
11 Slimed out of the water and
12 My throat sickened so quickly that
13 I turned down the path in cold sweat
14 But God, another was nimbling
16 Arcs on the stones. Incredibly then
17 I established a dreaded
18 Bridgehead. I turned to stare
19 With deliberate, thrilled care 20 At my hitherto snubbed rodent.
21 He clockworked aimlessly a while,
22 Stopped, back bunched and glistening,
23 Ears plastered down on his knobbled skull, 24 Insidiously listening.
[Page 7]
25 The tapered tail that followed him,
26 The raindrop eye, the old snout: 27 One by one I took all in.
28 He trained on me. I stared him out
29 Forgetting how I used to panic
30 When his grey brothers scraped and fed
31 Behind the hen-coop in our yard, 32 On ceiling boards above my bed.
33 This terror, cold, wet-furred, small-clawed, 34 Retreated up a pipe for sewage.
35 I stared a minute after him.
36 Then I walked on and crossed the bridge. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 8] Heaney, Seamus:Blackberry-Picking (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber] For Philip Hobsbaum
1 Late August, given heavy rain and sun 2 For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
3 At first, just one, a glossy purple clot 4 Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
5 You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
7 Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
8 Picking. Then red ones inked up, and that hunger
9 Sent us out with milk-cans, pea-tins, jam-pots 10 Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
11 Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills,
12 We trekked and picked until the cans were full,
13 Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
14 With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
15 Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered 16 With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.
17 We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
18 But when the bath was filled we found a fur, 19 A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
20 The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush, 21 The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
22 I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair 23 That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
24 Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 9] Heaney, Seamus:Churning Day (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 A thick crust, coarse-grained as limestone rough-cast, 2 hardened gradually on top of the four crocks 3 that stood, large pottery bombs, in the small pantry.
4 After the hot brewery of gland, cud and udder, 5 cool porous earthenware fermented the buttermilk 6 for churning day, when the hooped churn was scoured 7 with plumping kettles and the busy scrubber 8 echoed daintily on the seasoned wood.
9 It stood then, purified, on the flagged kitchen floor.
10 Out came the four crocks, spilled their heavy lip 11 of cream, their white insides, into the sterile churn.
12 The staff, like a great whisky muddler fashioned 13 in deal wood, was plunged in, the lid fitted.
14 My mother took first turn, set up rhythms 15 that slugged and thumped for hours. Arms ached.
17 with flabby milk.
18 Where finally gold flecks 19 began to dance. They poured hot water then, 20 sterilized a birchwood-bowl 21 and little corrugated butter-spades.
22 Their short stroke quickened, suddenly 23 a yellow curd was weighting the churned up white, 24 heavy and rich, coagulated sunlight 25 that they fished, dripping, in a wide tin strainer, 26 heaped up like gilded gravel in the bowl. [Page 10]
27 The house would stink long after churning day, 28 acrid as a sulphur mine. The empty crocks 29 were ranged along the wall again, the butter 30 in soft printed slabs was piled on pantry shelves.
31 And in the house we moved with gravid ease, 32 our brains turned crystals full of clean deal churns, 33 the plash and gurgle of the sour-breathed milk, 34 the pat and slap of small spades on wet lumps.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 11] Heaney, Seamus:The Early Purges (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber] 1 I was six when I first saw kittens drown.
2 Dan Taggart pitched them, 'the scraggy wee shits',
3 Into a bucket; a frail metal sound,
4 Soft paws scraping like mad. But their tiny din
5 Was soon soused. They were slung on the snout 6 Of the pump and the water pumped in.
7 'Sure isn't it better for them now?' Dan said.
8 Like wet gloves they bobbed and shone till he sluiced 9 Them out on the dunghill, glossy and dead.
10 Suddenly frightened, for days I sadly hung
11 Round the yard, watching the three sogged remains
13 Until I forgot them. But the fear came back
14 When Dan trapped big rats, snared rabbits, shot crows
15 Or, with a sickening tug, pulled old hens' necks.
16 Still, living displaces false sentiments
17 And now, when shrill pups are prodded to drown,
18 I just shrug, 'Bloody pups'. It makes sense: 19 'Prevention of cruelty' talk cuts ice in town
20 Where they consider death unnatural, 21 But on well-run farms pests have to be kept down.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 12] Heaney, Seamus:Follower (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 My father worked with a horse-plough,
2 His shoulders globed like a full sail strung 3 Between the shafts and the furrow.
4 The horses strained at his clicking tongue.
5 An expert. He would set the wing 6 And fit the bright steel-pointed sock.
7 The sod rolled over without breaking.
8 At the headrig, with a single pluck
9 Of reins, the sweating team turned round
10 And back into the land. His eye
11 Narrowed and angled at the ground, 12 Mapping the furrow exactly.
13 I stumbled in his hob-nailed wake,
14 Fell sometimes on the polished sod;
15 Sometimes he rode me on his back, 16 Dipping and rising to his plod.
17 I wanted to grow up and plough, 18 To close one eye, stiffen my arm.
19 All I ever did was follow 20 In his broad shadow round the farm.
22 Yapping always. But today
23 It is my father who keeps stumbling
24 Behind me, and will not go away. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 13] Heaney, Seamus:Ancestral Photograph (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Jaws puff round and solid as a turnip,
2 Dead eyes are statue's and the upper lip 3 Bullies the heavy mouth down to a droop.
4 A bowler suggests the stage Irishman 5 Whose look has two parts scorn, two parts dead pan.
6 His silver watch chain girds him like a hoop.
7 My father's uncle, from whom he learnt the trade,
8 Long fixed in sepia tints, begins to fade
9 And must come down. Now on the bedroom wall
10 There is a faded patch where he has been---
11 As if a bandage had been ripped from skin--- 12 Empty plaque to a house's rise and fall.
13 Twenty years ago I herded cattle
14 Into pens or held them against a wall
15 Until my father won at arguing
16 His own price on a crowd of cattlemen
17 Who handled rumps, groped teats, stood, paused and then 18 Bought a round of drinks to clinch the bargain.
19 Uncle and nephew, fifty years ago, 20 Heckled and herded through the fair days too.
21 This barrel of a man penned in the frame:
22 I see him with the jaunty hat pushed back
23 Draw thumbs out of his waistcoat, curtly smack
24 Hands and sell. Father, I've watched you do the same [Page 14] 25 And watched you sadden when the fairs were stopped.
28 Was parked behind the door and stands there still.
29 Closing this chapter of our chronicle,
30 I take your uncle's portrait to the attic. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 15] Heaney, Seamus:Mid-Term Break (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 I sat all morning in the college sick bay, 2 Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
3 At two o'clock our neighbours drove me home.
4 In the porch I met my father crying---
5 He had always taken funerals in his stride--- 6 And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.
7 The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
8 When I came in, and I was embarrassed
9 By old men standing up to shake my hand 10 And tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble'.
11 Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
12 Away at school, as my mother held my hand 13 In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
14 At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived 15 With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.
16 Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
17 And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
18 For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,
19 Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple, 20 He lay in the four foot box as in his cot.
21 No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.
22 A four foot box, a foot for every year. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 16]
Heaney, Seamus:Dawn Shoot (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Clouds ran their wet mortar, plastered the daybreak
2 Grey. The stones clicked tartly
3 If we missed the sleepers, but mostly
4 Silent we headed up the railway
5 Where now the only steam was funnelling from cows
6 Ditched on their rumps beyond hedges, 7 Cudding, watching, and knowing.
8 The rails scored a bull's-eye into the eye
9 Of a bridge. A corncrake challenged
10 Unexpectedly like a hoarse sentry 11 And a snipe rocketed away on reconnaissance.
12 Rubber-booted, belted, tense as two parachutists,
13 We climbed the iron gate and dropped 14 Into the meadow's six acres of broom, gorse and dew.
15 A sandy bank, reinforced with coiling roots, 16 Faced you, two hundred yards from the track.
17 Snug on our bellies behind a rise of dead whins,
18 Our ravenous eyes getting used to the greyness, 19 We settled, soon had the holes under cover.
20 This was the den they all would be heading for now,
21 Loping under ferns in dry drains, flashing 22 Brown orbits across ploughlands and grazing.
23 The plaster thinned at the skyline, the whitewash
24 Was bleaching on houses and stables,
25 The cock would be sounding reveille [Page 17] 26 In seconds.
27 And there was one breaking 28 In from the gap in the corner.
29 Donnelly's left hand came up
30 And came down on my barrel. This one was his, 31 'For Christ's sake,' I spat, 'Take your time, there'll be more.'
32 There was the playboy trotting up to the hole
33 By the ash tree, 'Wild rover no more,'
34 Said Donnelly and emptied two barrels
36 Another snipe catapulted into the light,
37 A mare whinnied and shivered her haunches
38 Up on a hill. The others would not be back
39 After three shots like that. We dandered off
40 To the railway; the prices were small at that time 41 So we did not bother to cut out the tongue.
42 The ones that slipped back when the all clear got round 43 Would be first to examine him.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 18] Heaney, Seamus:At a Potato Digging (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
I
1 A mechanical digger wrecks the drill, 2 Spins up a dark shower of roots and mould.
3 Labourers swarm in behind, stoop to fill 4 Wicker creels. Fingers go dead in the cold.
5 Like crows attacking crow-black fields, they stretch
6 A higgledy line from hedge to headland;
7 Some pairs keep breaking ragged ranks to fetch
8 A full creel to the pit and straighten, stand
9 Tall for a moment but soon stumble back 10 To fish a new load from the crumbled surf.
11 Heads bow, trunks bend, hands fumble towards the black
12 Mother. Processional stooping through the turf
13 Recurs mindlessly as autumn. Centuries
14 Of fear and homage to the famine god
15 Toughen the muscles behind their humbled knees, 16 Make a seasonal altar of the sod.
II
1 Flint-white, purple. They lie scattered
[Page 19] 4 where the halved seed shot and clotted, 5 these knobbed and slit-eyed tubers seem 6 the petrified hearts of drills. Split 7 by the spade, they show white as cream.
8 Good smells exude from crumbled earth.
9 The rough bark of humus erupts 10 knots of potatoes (a clean birth) 11 whose solid feel, whose wet insides 12 promise taste of ground and root.
13 To be piled in pits; live skulls, blind-eyed.
III
1 Live skulls, blind-eyed, balanced on 2 wild higgledy skeletons, 3 scoured the land in 'forty-five, 4 wolfed the blighted root and died.
5 The new potato, sound as stone, 6 putrefied when it had lain 7 three days in the long clay pit.
8 Millions rotted along with it.
9 Mouths tightened in, eyes died hard, 10 faces chilled to a plucked bird.
11 In a million wicker huts, 12 beaks of famine snipped at guts.
13 A people hungering from birth, 14 grubbing, like plants, in the earth, [Page 20] 15 were grafted with a great sorrow.
16 Hope rotted like a marrow.
17 Stinking potatoes fouled the land, 18 pits turned pus into filthy mounds:
IV
1 Under a gay flotilla of gulls 2 The rhythm deadens, the workers stop.
3 Brown bread and tea in bright canfuls
4 Are served for lunch. Dead-beat, they flop
5 Down in the ditch and take their fill,
6 Thankfully breaking timeless fasts;
7 Then, stretched on the faithless ground, spill 8 Libations of cold tea, scatter crusts.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 21] Heaney, Seamus:For the Commander of the Eliza (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber] ... the others, with emaciated faces and prominent, staring eyeballs, were evidently in an advanced state of starvation. The officer reported to Sir James Dombrain ... and Sir James, 'very inconveniently', wrote Routh, 'interfered'. CECIL WOODHAM-SMITH: THE GREAT HUNGER
1 Routine patrol off West Mayo; sighting
2 A rowboat heading unusually far
3 Beyond the creek, I tacked and hailed the crew
4 In Gaelic. Their stroke had clearly weakened
5 As they pulled to, from guilt or bashfulness
6 I was conjecturing when, O my sweet Christ,
7 We saw piled in the bottom of their craft
8 Six grown men with gaping mouths and eyes 9 Bursting the sockets like spring onions in drills.
10 Six wrecks of bone and pallid, tautened skin. 11 'Bia, bia,
12 Bia'. In whines and snarls their desperation 13 Rose and fell like a flock of starving gulls.
14 We'd known about the shortage, but on board
15 They always kept us right with flour and beef
16 So understand my feelings, and the men's,
17 Who had no mandate to relieve distress
18 Since relief was then available in Westport---
20 I had to refuse food: they cursed and howled
21 Like dogs that had been kicked hard in the privates.
22 When they drove at me with their starboard oar 23 (Risking capsize themselves) I saw they were
24 Violent and without hope. I hoisted 25 And cleared off. Less incidents the better.
[Page 22]
26 Next day, like six bad smells, those living skulls
27 Drifted through the dark of bunks and hatches
28 And once in port I exorcised my ship, 29 Reporting all to the Inspector General.
30 Sir James, I understand, urged free relief
31 For famine victims in the Westport Sector 32 And earned tart reprimand from good Whitehall.
33 Let natives prosper by their own exertions; 34 Who could not swim might go ahead and sink. 35 'The Coast Guard with their zeal and activity 36 Are too lavish' were the words, I think.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 23] Heaney, Seamus:The Diviner (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Cut from the green hedge a forked hazel stick
2 That he held tight by the arms of the V:
3 Circling the terrain, hunting the pluck
4 Of water, nervous, but professionally 5 Unfussed. The pluck came sharp as a sting.
6 The rod jerked with precise convulsions,
7 Spring water suddenly broadcasting 8 Through a green hazel its secret stations.
9 The bystanders would ask to have a try.
10 He handed them the rod without a word.
11 It lay dead in their grasp till, nonchalantly, 12 He gripped expectant wrists. The hazel stirred.
[Page 24] Heaney, Seamus:Turkeys Observed (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 One observes them, one expects them;
2 Blue-breasted in their indifferent mortuary,
3 Beached bare on the cold marble slabs 4 In immodest underwear frills of feather.
5 The red sides of beef retain
6 Some of the smelly majesty of living:
7 A half-cow slung from a hook maintains 8 That blood and flesh are not ignored.
9 But a turkey cowers in death.
10 Pull his neck, pluck him, and look---
11 He is just another poor forked thing, 12 A skin bag plumped with inky putty.
13 He once complained extravagantly
14 In an overture of gobbles;
15 He lorded it on the claw-flecked mud 16 With a grey flick of his Confucian eye.
17 Now, as I pass the bleak Christmas dazzle,
18 I find him ranged with his cold squadrons:
19 The fuselage is bare, the proud wings snapped, 20 The tail-fan stripped down to a shameful rudder.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 25] Heaney, Seamus:Cow in Calf (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber] 1 It seems she has swallowed a barrel.
2 From forelegs to haunches, 3 her belly is slung like a hammock.
4 Slapping her out of the byre is like slapping 5 a great bag of seed. My hand 6 tingled as if strapped, but I had to
8 heard the blows plump like a depth-charge 9 far in her gut.
10 The udder grows. Windbags 11 of bagpipes are crammed there 12 to drone in her lowing.
13 Her cud and her milk, her heats and her calves 14 keep coming and going.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 26] Heaney, Seamus:Trout (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Hangs, a fat gun-barrel, 2 deep under arched bridges 3 or slips like butter down 4 the throat of the river.
5 From depths smooth-skinned as plums, 6 his muzzle gets bull's eye; 7 picks off grass-seed and moths 8 that vanish, torpedoed.
9 Where water unravels 10 over gravel-beds he 11 is fired from the shallows, 12 white belly reporting 13 flat; darts like a tracer- 14 bullet back between stones 15 and is never burnt out.
16 A volley of cold blood 17 ramrodding the current.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 27] Heaney, Seamus:Waterfall (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 The burn drowns steadily in its own downpour,
2 A helter-skelter of muslin and glass
3 That skids to a halt, crashing up suds.
4 Simultaneous acceleration
5 And sudden braking; water goes over 6 Like villains dropped screaming to justice.
7 It appears an athletic glacier
8 Has reared into reverse: is swallowed up 9 And regurgitated through this long throat.
10 My eye rides over and downwards, falls with
11 Hurtling tons that slabber and spill, 12 Falls, yet records the tumult thus standing still.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 28] Heaney, Seamus:Docker (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber] 1 There, in the corner, staring at his drink.
2 The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam, 3 Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead jaw.
4 Speech is clamped in the lips' vice.
5 That fist would drop a hammer on a Catholic--- 6 Oh yes, that kind of thing could start again.
7 The only Roman collar he tolerates 8 Smiles all round his sleek pint of porter.
9 Mosaic imperatives bang home like rivets;
10 God is a foreman with certain definite views 11 Who orders life in shifts of work and leisure.
12 A factory horn will blare the Resurrection.
13 He sits, strong and blunt as a Celtic cross,
14 Clearly used to silence and an armchair:
15 Tonight the wife and children will be quiet 16 At slammed door and smoker's cough in the hall.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd
[Page 29] Heaney, Seamus:Poor Women in a City Church (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 The small wax candles melt to light,
2 Flicker in marble, reflect bright
3 Asterisks on brass candlesticks:
4 At the Virgin's altar on the right, 5 Blue flames are jerking on wicks.
6 Old dough-faced women with black shawls 7 Drawn down tight kneel in the stalls.
8 Cold yellow candle-tongues, blue flame
9 Mince and caper as whispered calls 10 Take wing up to the Holy Name.
11 Thus each day in the sacred place
12 They kneel. Golden shrines, altar lace,
13 Marble columns and cool shadows
14 Still them. In the gloom you cannot trace 15 A wrinkle on their beeswax brows.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 30] Heaney, Seamus:Gravities (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 High-riding kites appear to range quite freely, 2 Though reined by strings, strict and invisible.
3 The pigeon that deserts you suddenly 4 Is heading home, instinctively faithful.
5 Lovers with barrages of hot insult
6 Often cut off their nose to spite their face,
7 Endure a hopeless day, declare their guilt, 8 Re-enter the native port of their embrace.
9 Blinding in Paris, for his party-piece
10 Joyce named the shops along O'Connell Street
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 31] Heaney, Seamus:Twice Shy (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Her scarf à la Bardot,
2 In suede flats for the walk,
3 She came with me one evening 4 For air and friendly talk.
5 We crossed the quiet river, 6 Took the embankment walk.
7 Traffic holding its breath,
8 Sky a tense diaphragm:
9 Dusk hung like a backcloth
10 That shook where a swan swam,
11 Tremulous as a hawk 12 Hanging deadly, calm.
13 A vacuum of need
14 Collapsed each hunting heart
15 But tremulously we held
16 As hawk and prey apart,
17 Preserved classic decorum, 18 Deployed our talk with art.
19 Our juvenilia
20 Had taught us both to wait,
21 Not to publish feeling
22 And regret it all too late---
23 Mushroom loves already 24 Had puffed and burst in hate.
[Page 32]
25 So, chary and excited
26 As a thrush linked on a hawk,
27 We thrilled to the March twilight
28 With nervous childish talk:
29 Still waters running deep
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 33] Heaney, Seamus:Valediction (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Lady with the frilled blouse
2 And simple tartan skirt,
3 Since you left the house
4 Its emptiness has hurt
5 All thought. In your presence
6 Time rode easy, anchored
7 On a smile; but absence
8 Rocked love's balance, unmoored
9 The days. They buck and bound
10 Across the calendar,
11 Pitched from the quiet sound
12 Of your flower-tender
13 Voice. Need breaks on my strand; 14 You've gone, I am at sea.
15 Until you resume command, 16 Self is in mutiny.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 34] Heaney, Seamus:Lovers on Aran (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 The timeless waves, bright, sifting, broken glass,
2 Came dazzling around, into the rocks,
3 Came glinting, sifting from the Americas
4 To possess Aran. Or did Aran rush
5 To throw wide arms of rock around a tide
6 That yielded with an ebb, with a soft crash?
7 Did sea define the land or land the sea? 8 Each drew new meaning from the waves' collision.
9 Sea broke on land to full identity. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd
Heaney, Seamus:Poem (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber] For Marie
1 Love, I shall perfect for you the child
2 Who diligently potters in my brain
3 Digging with heavy spade till sods were piled 4 Or puddling through muck in a deep drain.
5 Yearly I would sow my yard-long garden.
6 I'd strip a layer of sods to build the wall 7 That was to exclude sow and pecking hen.
8 Yearly, admitting these, the sods would fall.
9 Or in the sucking clabber I would splash
10 Delightedly and dam the flowing drain,
11 But always my bastions of clay and mush 12 Would burst before the rising autumn rain.
13 Love, you shall perfect for me this child
14 Whose small imperfect limits would keep breaking:
15 Within new limits now, arrange the world 16 Within our walls, within our golden ring.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 36] Heaney, Seamus:Honeymoon Flight (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Below, the patchwork earth, dark hems of hedge,
2 The long grey tapes of road that bind and loose
3 Villages and fields in casual marriage:
4 We bank above the small lough and farmhouse
5 And the sure green world goes topsy-turvy 6 As we climb out of our familiar landscape.
7 The engine noises change. You look at me.
8 The coastline slips away beneath the wing-tip.
9 And launched right off the earth by force of fire,
10 We hang, miraculous, above the water,
12 To keep us airborne and to bring us further.
13 Ahead of us the sky's a geyser now.
14 A calm voice talks of cloud yet we feel lost.
15 Air-pockets jolt our fears and down we go.
16 Travellers, at this point, can only trust. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 37] Heaney, Seamus:Scaffolding (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Masons, when they start upon a building,
2 Are careful to test out the scaffolding;
3 Make sure that planks won't slip at busy points, 4 Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.
5 And yet all this comes down when the job's done, 6 Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.
7 So if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
8 Old bridges breaking between you and me,
9 Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall, 10 Confident that we have built our wall.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 38] Heaney, Seamus:Storm on the Island (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 We are prepared: we build our houses squat, 2 Sink walls in rock and roof them with good slate.
3 This wizened earth has never troubled us
4 With hay, so, as you see, there are no stacks
5 Or stooks that can be lost. Nor are there trees
6 Which might prove company when it blows full
7 Blast: you know what I mean---leaves and branches
8 Can raise a tragic chorus in a gale
9 So that you listen to the thing you fear
11 But there are no trees, no natural shelter.
12 You might think that the sea is company,
13 Exploding comfortably down on the cliffs,
14 But no: when it begins, the flung spray hits
15 The very windows, spits like a tame cat
16 Turned savage. We just sit tight while wind dives
17 And strafes invisibly. Space is a salvo, 18 We are bombarded by the empty air.
19 Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 39] Heaney, Seamus:Synge on Aran (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Salt off the sea whets 2 the blades of four winds.
3 They peel acres 4 of locked rock, pare down 5 a rind of shrivelled ground; 6 bull-noses are chiselled 7 on cliffs.
8 Islanders too 9 are for sculpting. Note 10 the pointed scowl, the mouth 11 carved as upturned anchor 12 and the polished head 13 full of drownings.
14 There 15 he comes now, a hard pen 16 scraping in his head; 17 the nib filed on a salt wind 18 and dipped in the keening sea. ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 40] Heaney, Seamus:Saint Francis and the Birds (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
2 They listened, fluttered, throttled up
3 Into the blue like a flock of words
4 Released for fun from his holy lips.
5 Then wheeled back, whirred about his head,
6 Pirouetted on brothers' capes,
7 Danced on the wing, for sheer joy played 8 And sang, like images took flight.
9 Which was the best poem Francis made, 10 His argument true, his tone light.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 41] Heaney, Seamus:In Small Townlands (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber] For Colin Middleton
1 In small townlands his hogshair wedge
2 Will split the granite from the clay
3 Till crystal in the rock is bared:
4 Loaded brushes hone an edge 5 On mountain blue and heather grey.
6 Outcrops of stone contract, outstared.
7 The spectrum bursts, a bright grenade,
8 When he unlocks the safety catch 9 On morning dew, on cloud, on rain.
10 The splintered lights slice like a spade
11 That strips the land of fuzz and blotch,
12 Pares clean as bone, cruel as the pain 13 That strikes in a wild heart attack.
14 His eyes, thick, greedy lenses, fire
15 This bare bald earth with white and red,
16 Incinerate it till it's black
17 And brilliant as a funeral pyre: 18 A new world cools out of his head.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd
[Page 42] Heaney, Seamus:The Folk Singers (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Re-turning time-turned words,
2 Fitting each weathered song
3 To a new-grooved harmony,
4 They pluck slick strings and swing 5 A sad heart's equilibrium.
6 Numb passion, pearled in the shy
7 Shell of a country love
8 And strung on a frail tune,
9 Looks sharp now, strikes a pose 10 Like any rustic new to the bright town.
11 Their pre-packed tale will sell
12 Ten thousand times: pale love
13 Rouged for the streets. Humming
14 Solders all broken hearts. Death's edge 15 Blunts on the narcotic strumming.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 43] Heaney, Seamus:The Play Way (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber]
1 Sunlight pillars through glass, probes each desk 2 For milk-tops, drinking straws and old dry crusts.
3 The music strides to challenge it, 4 Mixing memory and desire with chalk dust.
5 My lesson notes read: Teacher will play
6 Beethoven's Concerto Number Five
7 And class will express themselves freely
8 In writing. One said 'Can we jive?'
9 When I produced the record, but now
10 The big sound has silenced them. Higher
11 And firmer, each authoritative note
13 Working its private spell behind eyes
14 That stare wide. They have forgotten me
15 For once. The pens are busy, the tongues mime
16 Their blundering embrace of the free
17 Word. A silence charged with sweetness
18 Breaks short on lost faces where I see
19 New looks. Then notes stretch taut as snares. They trip 20 To fall into themselves unknowingly.
? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1966, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd [Page 44] Heaney, Seamus:Personal Helicon (1966) [from Death of a Naturalist (1991), Faber and Faber] For Michael Longley
1 As a child, they could not keep me from wells 2 And old pumps with buckets and windlasses.
3 I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells 4 Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss.
5 One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top.
6 I savoured the rich crash when a bucket 7 Plummeted down at the end of a rope.
8 So deep you saw no reflection in it.
9 A shallow one under a dry stone ditch 10 Fructified like any aquarium.
11 When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch, 12 A white face hovered over the bottom.
13 Others had echoes, gave back your own call
14 With a clean new music in it. And one
15 Was scaresome for there, out of ferns and tall 16 Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection.
17 Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
18 To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
19 Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme 20 To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.
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Heaney, Seamus: The Haw Lantern (1987) , Faber and Faber Bibliographic details Bibliographic details for the Electronic File Heaney, Seamus: The Haw Lantern (1987) Cambridge 1999 Chadwyck-Healey (a Bell & Howell Information and Learning Company) The Faber Poetry Library / Twentieth-Century English Poetry Copyright ? 2000 Bell & Howell Information and Learning Company. All Rights Reserved. Do not export or print from this database without checking the Copyright Conditions to see what is permitted.
Bibliographic details for the Source Text Heaney, Seamus Seamus Heaney (Faber and Faber form) (1939-) The Haw Lantern London Faber and Faber 1987 (11), 51 p.
Preliminaries and introductory matter omitted ? Copyright Seamus Heaney, 1987, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd
ISBN 057114781X Volume [Page 1] Heaney, Seamus:Alphabets [from The Haw Lantern (1987), Faber and Faber]
I
1 A shadow his father makes with joined hands
2 And thumbs and fingers nibbles on the wall
3 Like a rabbit's head. He understands 4 He will understand more when he goes to school.
5 There he draws smoke with chalk the whole first week, 6 Then draws the forked stick that they call a Y.
7 This is writing. A swan's neck and swan's back
9 Two rafters and a cross-tie on the slate
10 Are the letter some call ah, some call ay.
11 There are charts, there are headlines, there is a right 12 Way to hold the pen and a wrong way.
13 First it is 'copying out', and then 'English' 14 Marked correct with a little leaning hoe.
15 Smells of inkwells rise in the classroom hush.
16 A globe in the window tilts like a coloured O.
II
1 Declensions sang on air like a hosanna
2 As, column after stratified column,
3 Book One of Elementa Latina, 4 Marbled and minatory, rose up in him.
[Page 2]
5 For he was fostered next in a stricter school
6 Named for the patron saint of the oak wood
7 Where classes switched to the pealing of a bell