Irish
1898 – 1967
On the road over head,
To the passers-by,
‘Listen,’ she said,
‘Inside this cliff are the dead.
They cry
Because they are dead.’
‘You hear,’ said I,
‘The cry
Of the wind in the hollow face
of the cliff:
Within the cliff
There is only earth.’
‘And what,’ she said,
‘Are the dead
But earth?’
Poets Corner 