“How goes the night, boy?…” by Michael Hartnett

by Steven McCabe

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The night before Patricia’s funeral in 1951
 I stayed up late talking to my father.

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How goes the night, boy?
The moon is down:
Dark is the town
In this nightfall.

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How goes the night, boy?
Soon is her funeral
Her small white burial.

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She was my three-years child,
Her honey hair, her eyes
Small ovals of thrush-eggs.

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How goes the night, boy?
It is late: lace
At the window
Blows back in the wind.

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How goes the night, boy?
Oh, my poor white fawn!
How goes the night, boy?
It is dawn.

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 Michael Hartnett (1941-1999) is an award winning poet from County Limerick, Ireland. Poem courtesy of Niall Hartnett.

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