The cry, the townland whelmed in sleep.

The sock on the anvil, the thread in the loom,

The Host on the altar, the child in the womb.

The wayside murder, the whispered name,

The hanging body, the hidden shame.

And more—if you but listen and look—

In this, my elemental book!

[I WILL GO WITH MY FATHER A-PLOUGHING]

I will go with my father a-ploughing

To the green field by the sea,