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  <updated>2026-04-10T11:48:32+01:00</updated>
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    <email>niwa@bt48.com</email>
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  <entry>
    <id>1308</id>
    <title>Greacen008</title>
    <updated>Wednesday, July 20, 2016 - 19:17</updated>
    <link href="https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/node/%25/atom"/>
    <collections>Unpublished Poems</collections>
    <contributor>Greacen Estate</contributor>
    <coverage>19 Jan</coverage>
    <creator>Linen Hall Library</creator>
    <date>Wednesday, March 16, 2016</date>
    <format>TIFF</format>
    <identifier>Greacen008</identifier>
    <itemdescription>Manuscript</itemdescription>
    <keywords>One day last August</keywords>
    <language>English</language>
    <path>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/greacen008</path>
    <publisher>Linen Hall Library</publisher>
    <relation>Linen Hall Library</relation>
    <rights>Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA</rights>
    <scannedimage>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/sites/default/files/Greacen008_0.jpg</scannedimage>
    <source>LHL Archive</source>
    <transcript>﻿One Day Last August

One day last August, travelling by bus to Annslong,
Past fields brown-pimpled with haycocks,
And whitewashed rectangular houses,
I tried - expatriate now - to overhear
The homely rhythms that these people use
As running murmur to a simple way of life
Through their world&#039;s wilderness of tangled hate
I tried to see the obverse of the coins
That tinkle brash in every little till
And echo that intolerance I knew too well.
Then came the answer on that August day:
If you would find the virtue of this place
Then search it out in tidy village streets
And in the narrow, stone-walled fields,
For there these people build in quietness,
Far from the politicians vulgar rant
That tears the fabric of this land.
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    <updateddate>Wednesday, July 20, 2016 - 19:17</updateddate>
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