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This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.

Under Creon Tom Paulin
Rhododendrons growing wild below a mountain
and no long high wall or trees either;
a humped road, bone-dry, with no one -
passing one lough and then another
where water-lilies glazed, primed like traps.

A neapish hour, I searched out gaps
in that imperial shrub: a free voice sang
dissenting green, and syllables spoke
...


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