The better reading from the poet himself, Seamus Heaney:
A Dream of Jealousy
Walking with you and another lady
In a wooded parkland, the whispering grass
Ran its fingers through our guessing silence
And the trees opened into a shady
Unexpected clearing where we sat down.
We talking about desire and being jealous,
Our conversation a loose single gown
Or a white picnic tablecloth spread out
Like a book of manners in the wilderness.
‘Show me,’ I said to our companion, ‘what
I have much coveted, your breast’s mauve star.’
And she consented. Oh neither these verses
Nor my prudence, love, can heal your wounded stare.