The Barn

Album cover art for "The Barn" by Seamus Heaney

Seamus Heaney - Non-Music

The Barn

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Threshed corn lay piled like grit of ivory Or solid as cement in two-lugged sacks. The musky dark hoarded an armoury Of farmyard implements, harness, plough-socks. The floor was mouse-grey, smooth, chilly concrete. There were no windows, just two narrow shafts Of gilded motes, crossing, from air-holes slit High in each gable. The one door meant no draughts All summer when the zinc burned like an oven. A scythe's edge, a clean spade, a pitchfork's prongs: Slowly bright objects formed when you went in. Then you felt cobwebs clogging up your lungs And scuttled fast into the sunlit yard- And into nights when bats were on the wing Over the rafters of sleep, where bright eyes stared From piles of grain in corners, fierce, unblinking. The dark gulfed like a roof-space. I was chaff To be pecked up when birds shot through the air- slits. I lay face-down to shun the fear above. The two-lugged sacks moved in like great blind rats

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