Non-one does clash of cultures better than Smith, as a Gaelic girl gets to grips with English literature.
Poetry drives its lines into her forehead
like an angled plough across a bare field.
I’ve seen her kind before…
And she - like them – should grow along these valleys
Bearing bright children, being kind to love.
Simple affection needs no complex solace
nor quieter minds abstractions of the grave…
like an angled plough across a bare field.
I’ve seen her kind before…
And she - like them – should grow along these valleys
Bearing bright children, being kind to love.
Simple affection needs no complex solace
nor quieter minds abstractions of the grave…
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