Austin Clarke
The Planter's Daughter
When night stirred at sea, An the fire brought a crowd in They say that her beauty Was music in mouth And few in the candlelight Thought her too proud, For the house of
The Blackbird Of Derrycairn
Stop, stop and listen for the bough top Is whistling and the sun is brighter Than God’s own shadow in the cup now! Forget the hour-bell. Mournful matins Will sound, Patric, as well at
The Lost Heifer
When the black herds of the rain were grazing, In the gap of the pure cold wind And the watery hazes of the hazel Brought her into my mind, I thought of the last