Ode to a Poet

Unfortunately Irish poet Seamus Heaney died last year on the 30th of August. The author of over 20 poetic collections and a shrewd critique of literature, Heaney led a very erudite and fulfilling life. Continuing the trend of my previous post, Seamus Heaney won a Nobel Prize for the Literature in 1995 "for works of lyrical beauty and ethical depth, which exalt everyday miracles and the living past." 

Heaney has also worked at some of the world's most advanced educational establishments, including Harvard and Oxford universities.  One of nine children and born in the Irish countryside, Heaney was exposed to rural life from a young age and this association became one of the most defining factors of his poetry. Heaney found a trust in nature that he expressed and elevated though his poetry.

He even declined the laureateship of the United Kingdom due to conflicting political orientations. Other Laureates have included William Wordsworth and Ted Hughes; Heaney cited Hughes amongst a list of people who had inspired his own work. 

Death of a Naturalist

"But best of all was the warm thick slobber

Of frogspawn that grew like clotted water

In the shade of the banks. Here, every spring

I would fill jampotfuls of the jellied

                                               Specks to range on window-sills at home,

On shelves at school, and wait and watch until

The fattening dots burst into nimble-

Swimming tadpoles."

At his funeral, It was revealed that Seamus Heaney had texted his wife, Marie, minutes before his death. The message read- "Noli timere" (Do not fear) 
These were to be his last words.