Author: Seamus Heaney
Quotes of Author: Seamus Heaney
And did I seek the Kingdom? Will the KingdomCome? The idea of it there, Behind its scrim since font and fontanel,Breaks like light or water,Like giddiness I felt at the old storyOf how he'd turn away from the motif,Spread his legs, bend low, then look between them For the mystery of the hard and fast To be unveiled, his inverted face contorting.Like an arse-kisser's in some vision of the damnedUntil he'd straighten, turn back, cock an eyeAnd stand with the brush at arm's length, readying. book-quoteIt is a great wonderHow Almighty God in his magnificenceFavors our race with rank and scopeAnd the gift of wisdom; His sway is wide.Sometimes He allows the mind of a manOf distinguished birth to follow its bent,Grants him fulfillment and felicity on earth And forts to command in his own country.He permits him to lord it in many landsUntil the man in his unthinkingnessForgets that it will ever end for him.He indulges his desires; illness and old ageMean nothing to him; his mind is untroubledBy envy or malice or thought of enemiesWith their hate-honed swords. The whole worldConforms to his will, he is kept from the worstUntil an element of overweening Enters him and takes holdWhile the soul's guard, its sentry, drowses,Grown too distracted. A killer stalks him,An archer who draws a deadly bow.And then the man is hit in the heart,The arrow flies beneath his defenses,The devious promptings of the demon start.His old possessions seem paltry to him now.He covets and resents; dishonors customAnd bestows no gold; and because of good things That the Heavenly powers gave him in the pastHe ignores the shape of things to come.Then finally the end arrivesWhen the body he was lent collapses and fallsPrey to its death; ancestral possessionsAnd the goods he hoarded and inherited by anotherWho lets them go with a liberal hand."O flower of warriors, beware of that trap.Choose, dear Beowulf, the better part,Eternal rewards. Do not give way to pride. For a brief while your strength is in bloomBut it fades quickly; and soon there will followIllness or the sword to lay you low,Or a sudden fire or surge of waterOr jabbing blade or javelin from the airOr repellent age. Your piercing ey life-and-deathI was six when I first saw kittens drown.Dan Taggart pitched them, 'the scraggy wee shits',Into a bucket; a frail metal sound, Soft paws scraping like mad. But their tiny dinWas soon soused. They were slung on the snoutOf the pump and the water pumped in. 'Sure isn't it better for them now?' Dan said.Like wet gloves they bobbed and shone till he sluicedThem out on the dunghill, glossy and dead. Suddenly frightened, for days I sadly hungRound the yard, watching the three sogged remainsTurn mealy and crisp as old summer dung Until I forgot them. But the fear came backWhen Dan trapped big rats, snared rabbits, shot crowsOr, with a sickening tug, pulled old hens' necks. Still, living displaces false sentimentsAnd now, when shrill pups are prodded to drown,I just shrug, 'Bloody pups'. It makes sense: 'Prevention of cruelty' talk cuts ice in townWhere they consider death unnatural,But on well-run farms pests have to be kept down. book-quote
