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Song

Written by: Seamus Heaney | Biography
 | Quotes (1) |
 A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the by-road and the main road Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance Stand off among the rushes.
There are the mud-flowers of dialect And the immortelles of perfect pitch And that moment when the bird sings very close To the music of what happens.



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