Seamus Heaney
Poems 1965-1975
Door into the Dark (1969)
Gone
Green froth that lathered each end
Of the shining bit
Is a cobweb of grass-dust.
The sweaty twist of the bellyband
Has stiffened, cold in the hand.
And pads of the blinkers
Bulge through the ticking.
Reins, chains and traces
Droop in a tangle.

His hot reeek is lost.
The place os old in his must.

He cleared in a hurry
Clad only in shods
Leaving this stable unmade.