Seamus Heaney — An Advancement of Learning

I took the embankment path (As always, deferring The bridge). The river nosed past, Pliable, oil-skinned, wearing A transfer of gables and sky. Hunched over the railing, Well away from the road now, I Considered the dirty-keeled swans. Something slobbered curtly, close, Smudging the silence: a rat Slimed out of the water and My throat sickened so quickly that I turned down the path in cold sweat But God, another was nimbling Up the far bank, tracing its wet Arcs on the stones. Incredibly then I established a dreaded Bridgehead. I turned to stare With deliberate, thrilled care At my hitherto snubbed rodent. He clockworked aimlessly a while, Stopped, back bunched and glistening, Ears plastered down on his knobbed skull, Insidiously listening. The tapered tail that followed him, The raindrop eye, the old snout: One by one I took all in. He trained on me. I stared him out Forgetting how I used to panic When his grey brothers scraped and fed Behind the hen-coop in our yard, On ceiling boards above my bed. This terror, cold, wet-furred, small-clawed, Retreated up a pipe for sewage. I stared a minute after him. Then I walked on and crossed the bridge.