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 Postscript by Seamus Heaney 
						And some time make the time to drive out westInto County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
 In September or October, when the wind
 And the light are working off each other
 So that the ocean on one side is wild
 With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
 The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
 By the earthed lightening of flock of swans,
 Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
 Their fully-grown headstrong-looking heads
 Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
 Useless to think you'll park or capture it
 More thoroughly.  You are neither here nor there,
 A hurry through which known and strange things pass
 As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
 And catch the heart off guard and blow it open
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