Mention637682
Download triples| rdf:type | qkg:Mention |
| so:text | The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge Through living roots awaken in my head. But I've no spade to follow men like them. Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I'll dig with it. (en) |
| so:isPartOf | https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Seamus_Heaney |
| so:description | Poetry Quotes (en) |
| so:description | Death of a Naturalist (en) |
| qkg:hasContext | qkg:Context314188 |
| Property | Object |
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Triples where Mention637682 is the object (without rdf:type)
| qkg:Quotation604595 | qkg:hasMention |
| Subject | Property |
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