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This poem is taken from PN Review 110, Volume 22 Number 6, July - August 1996.

Poems Harvey Shapiro

Travelling through Ireland

Sitting beside a sign
pointing to Cork and Limerick
or in Irish Corcaigh
and Luimneach,
I am persuaded again
of my foreignness in this world,
and that none of the signs I read
points to happiness. And
many I can't make out.
Though this world is the only world
it is composed of infinite worlds.
In one of them, I take
my rightful place.

On the streets of Donegal
little Irish women
chirping like sparrows

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