As Terence Winch, one of America's finest poets, reminded us, Patrick Kavanagh's two best-known, best-loved poems are "Raglan Road" and "A Christmas Childhood." Of the two, I still prefer "Raglan Road" as both a poem and a song. I like Van Morrison and the Chieftains' rendition of the song, but the best version I ever heard appears on Dick Gaughan's sadly out-of-print and/or hard-to-find solo album in 1976, "Kist O'Gold," on Bill Leader's old Trailer label. No one has a voice like Gaughan's. Here are the song lyrics of "Raglan Road": On Raglan Road on an August day I saw her first and knew That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue I saw the danger yet I walked along the enchanted way And I said, Let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge Of the deep ravine where can be seen the true worth of passion's pledge The queen of hearts still making tarts and I not making hay O I loved too much and by such, by such is happiness thrown away I gave her gifts of the mind, I gave her the secret sign that's known To the artist who has seen the true gods of sound and stone And word and tint, I did not stint for I gave her poems to say With her own name there and her long dark hair like clouds over fields of May On a quiet street where the old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day. Bravo, Terence, for bringing Kavanagh's poetic gifts back to us this holiday season. Earle Hitchner

Trick and treat: The trick is to reach students in any effective way you can, including the treat of Homer Simpson or Basil Rathbone. You are obviously an effective teacher. Now I have to locate and hear Homer Simpson's recitation of "The Raven." I'll bet it's a hoot ... or caw ... or whatever sound a raven-manque might make inside Moe's Bar.

Hi, Terence, Thanks for directing readers to another Melville work of ongoing importance and, using that word of wide circulation in the 1960s, relevance. Now let me direct readers to Terence Winch's fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, includng his superb new volume of verse, FALLING OUT OF BED IN A ROOM WITH NO FLOOR. Just click on his name that appears in the column to the immediate left here. Given what I wrote about Melville's low self-esteem, I recommend Winch's villanelle "Against Low Self-Esteem" in his new book. Earle Hitchner