The Happy Grass

The Happy Grass

Here, in their final quiet, the singers lie.
True to the dead, to the living true
The grass is growing as it always grew
Drinking every human cry
Like the rain of summer reaching the repose
Of singers long out of sight.
Will we ever know what the grass knows
Flourishing in green wisdom, green delight?

When delusions of communication cease
And we are victims once again
Of rumours the gossip wind is bringing
We'll celebrate the singers in their peace
Because above the graves of men
The happy grass is singing.


from Breathing Spaces: Early Poems (Bloodaxe, 1992), copyright © Brendan Kennelly 1992, used by permission of the author and Bloodaxe Books Ltd.

Recordings

Buy album £0.00

1The Adventure of Learning

2Getting Up Early

3The Singing Girl Is Easy in Her Skill

4Sing and Be Damned To It

5Blackbird

6Living Ghosts

7The Happy Grass

8Thérèse

9Saint Brigid's Prayer

10Saint Augustine on God

11Children's Hospital

12Citizens of the Night

13The Horse's Head

14The Stones

15Innocent

16Poem from a Three Year Old

17The Visitor

18Love-Cry

19The Swimmer

20bridge

21Dream of a Black Fox

22The Scarf

23Lightning

24Shell

25Sea

26Bread

27The Sandwoman

27Silence

29We Are Living

30The Moment of Letlive

31The Habit of Redemption

32A Restoration

33She Sees Her Own Distance

34More Dust

35The Fire is Crying

36A Half-Finished Garden

37Her Face

38A Giving

39Let It Go

40Proof

41The Speech of Trees

42Wish

43Knives

44The Third Force

45I See You Dancing, Father

46A Glimpse of Starlings

47Clearing a Space

48Begin

Books by Brendan Kennelly