(8 December 1881 – 11 January 1972 / County Longford)

Otters

I'LL be an otter, and I'll let you swim
A mate beside me; we will venture down
A deep, full river when the sky above
Is shut of the sun; spoilers are we;
Thick-coated; no dog's tooth can bite at our veins
With ears and eyes of poachers; deep-earthed ones
Turned hunters: let him slip past,
The little vole, my teeth are on an edge
For the King-fish of the River!

I hold him up
The glittering salmon that smells of the sea:
I hold him up and whistle!

Now we go
Back to our earth; we will tear and eat
Sea-smelling salmon: you will tell the cubs
I am the Booty-brmger: I am the Lord
Of the River the deep, dark, full, and flowing River!

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Comments (1)

There is such strength in this man's poetry- he must have had the world of nature alive in his heart