Tag Archives: 1906

“In Memory of My Mother,” by Patrick Kavanagh

I do not think of you lying in the wet clay
Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see
You walking down a lane among the poplars
On your way to the station, or happily

Going to second Mass on a summer Sunday-
You meet me and you say:
‘Don’t forget to see about the cattle-‘
Among your earthiest words the angels stray.
And I think of you walking along a headland
Of green oats in June,
So full of repose, so rich with life-
And I see us meeting at the end of a town
On a fair day by accident, after
The bargains are all made and we can walk
Together through the shops and stalls and markets
Free in the oriental streets of thought.
O you are not lying in the wet clay,
For it is harvest evening now and we
Are piling up the ricks against the moonlight
And you smile up at us – eternally.

 

 

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“The Harvest Moon,” William M. Monroe, 1906

“There are two things which cannot be attacked in front: ignorance and narrow-mindedness.”

“There are two things which cannot be attacked in front: ignorance and narrow-mindedness.  They can only be shaken by the simple development of the contrary qualities.  They will not bear discussion.”

— Lord John Dalberg-Acton in an 1861 letter, published in Lord Acton and His Circle, 1906

 

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