He’ll leave to
take his Harvard postgraduate,
this harvest,
see perhaps one last time,
straw bales
gathered in from green fields,
birds swooping over heathered mountains,
the sun high in the blue sky.
This land is
beautiful but I feel
no connection
to it, he laments and sings
the lyrics of Fields of Athenry.
we had dreams and songs to sing.
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
His Trinity degree, has earned
him two jobs, one on a Centra shop till,
the other as a removal man.
now we deal mainly with evictions,
he mourns.
Children of the construction boom,
Other Dublin friends fear they’ll never work
again, one quotes poetry.
Ireland has changed utterly, changed
utterly,
a terrible beauty is born.