Nice. I like that Patrick Kavanagh (the infamous Patrick K., it says on a website!).
Here's the first few lines of a poem by Nelson Bentley, who taught Mr.P at the U.Wash. We went to a few taverns with him and also a dinner at his home. He tended to write exceedingly long poems... I don't know why. Have I mentioned that, imho, poems should not be too long? Nevertheless, I like his images, especially these.
Voices of Loneliness
In quiet undoored cathedrals of the autumn woods,
walking in fern-still aisles of solitude,
where strong tall trunks pillar the
muralled ceiling of sun-and-flame-colored
I hear the lonely searching voices singing their
songs, alone, and to no listening heart:
I feel the frosty air of the woods vibrant
with soundless cries: and knowing there is
no tongue to answer to their urgent needs, I
cry out silently, though I am torn with aching...
Again, I travel along the highway through the small hills and hear the chorus of the lost
and looking minds whose never-quiet thoughts
sprinkle the fields like rocks, and lie
strewn upon the face of the rolling land,
where one may pick them up, fondle them,
and say wonderingly: what a strange
(He goes on for forty more stanzas.