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Going Without Saying

Going Without Saying i.m. Joe Flynn It is a great pity we don’t know When the dead are going to die So that, over a last companionable Drink, we could tell them How much we liked them. Happy the man who, dying, can Place his hand on his heart and say: ‘At least I didn’t neglect to tell The thrush how beautifully she sings.’ Bernard O’Donoghue Reprinted by permission of Faber & Faber from Selected Poems (2008)

           

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