By Seamus Heaney Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. "Digging" is one of the most widely known poems by the Irish poet Seamus Heaney and serves as the opening poem of Heaney's debut 1966 poetry collection, Death of a Naturalist. It begins with the speaker hovering over a blank page with a pen, preparing to write.
Digging by Seamus Heaney "Between my finger and my thumb / the squat
1 Summary 2 Analysis of Digging 3 Historical Significance Summary This poem is autobiographical in nature. The speaker, presumably Heaney, is sitting at his writing desk, preparing to write, when he hears his father working in the garden outside. "Digging" is a poem by the Irish poet Seamus Heaney. The poem centers a speaker who has chosen to pursue poetry as his vocation. Whereas his father and grandfather both made their living through agricultural labor, the speaker will metaphorically use his pen to "dig" through layers of history, memory, and meaning. Oct 30, 2023 11:57 AM EDT "Digging" by Seamus Heaney Photo by Gabriel Jimenez on Unsplash Seamus Heaney and a Summary of "Digging" "Digging" is one of Seamus Heaney's best-known poems and appeared first in the New Statesman magazine in 1964. Two years later, it was the first poem in Heaney's first published book, Death of a Naturalist. 1 viewer 31.9K views 18 Contributors Digging Lyrics Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly.
Seamus Heaney Digging Canvas Prints Limited Edition Prints Signed Irish Art
By Seamus Heaney Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. Summary "Digging" opens Seamus Heaney 's first collection and declares his intention as a poet. The poem begins with the speaker, who looks upon himself, his pen posed upon his paper, as he listens to the noise of his father digging outside the window. Irish poet Seamus Heaney, winner of the Nobel Prize for literature in 1995 and one of the 20th century's greatest poets, has died aged 74. Watch a recording. Digging by Seamus Heaney. Between my finger and my thumb. The squat pin rest; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound. When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down. Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds. Bends low, comes up twenty years away.
Digging, by Seamus Heaney. Site Today
poetry anthology || writings | weed's home page Seamus Heaney (1939-) Digging Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun. Under my window a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Seamus Heaney's "Digging," originally published as the opening poem of Heaney's celebrated collection Death of a Naturalist (1966), is an intense, onomatopoeic exploration of family, tradition, and inheritance.
'Digging' is a poem that repays close analysis because of such local effects. It's one of Seamus Heaney's first great triumphs as a poet and is one of his finest achievements. By Dr Oliver Tearle (Loughborough University) 'Digging' appeared in Seamus Heaney's first collection, Death of a Naturalist, in 1966. Digging. May 10, 2016. View the full text of the poem in this episode. by Seamus Heaney. Related Poems Digging Related Authors Seamus Heaney Audio Poem of the Day. Audio recordings of classic and contemporary poems read by poets and actors, delivered every day..
Digging by Seamus Heaney YouTube
DIGGING Seamus Heaney, "Digging" from Death of a Naturalist. Copyright 1966 by Seamus Heaney. Scroll for Poem Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down by Seamus Heaney Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging.
