Kenneth Madden

Connemara Cloth

…Imagining a man,
And his sun-freckled face
And gray Connemara cloth,
Climbing up to a place
Where stone is dark with froth,
And the down turn of his wrist
When the flies drop in the stream—
A man who does not exist,
A man who is but a dream;
And cried, “Before I am old
I shall have written him one
Poem maybe as cold
And passionate as the dawn.”

Yeats, The Fisherman

What do you think?

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*