Seamus Heaney quotes

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The bogholes might be Atlantic seepage.
The wet centre is bottomless.
An astounding crate full of air.
We have no prairies
To slice a big sun at evening--
It was a day of cold
Raw silence, wind-blown
As you find a rhythm
the habitual
Slow consolation
Of a dawdling engine,
At closing time would go
In waders and peaked cap
Dawn-sniffing revenant,
Plodder through midnight rain,
Question me again.
Right down the dam gross-bellied frogs were cocked
On sods; their loose necks pulsed like sails. Some hopped:
and wait and watch until
The fattening dots burst into nimble-
Swimming tadpoles.
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