• Brendan Kennelly


He summoned voices from the urgent past To scatter darkness now and still to come, The die of poetry was quickly cast And truth beat faintly as a distant drum; Assiduously, he hawked and scoured his heart For perfect subtleties of right and wrong, Nobly resolved to play the maker’s part, Retrieving something lost to myth and song.



Copyright information

© Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited 1965

Authors and Affiliations

  • Brendan Kennelly

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