SAY that the men of the old black
Though they but feed as the goathe
Their money spent, their wine gone
Lack nothing that a soldier needs,
That all are oath-bound men:

SELECTED FROM THE IR
THERE was a green branch hung wi
When her own people ruled this tra
And from its murmuring greenness,
A Druid kindness, on all hearers

BECAUSE we love bare hills and
And were the last to choose the se
Its boredom of the desk or of the
So many years companioned by a hou
Our voices carry; and though slumb

KNOW, that I would accounted be
True brother of a company
That sang, to sweeten Ireland’s w
Ballad and story, rann and song;
Nor be I any less of them,

THERE is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters
Because it was your prayer

ALL things can tempt me from this
One time it was a woman’s face, or
The seeming needs of my fool-drive
Now nothing but comes readier to t
Than this accustomed toil. When I

THE fascination of what’s difficu
Has dried the sap out of my veins,
Spontaneous joy and natural conten
Out of my heart. There’s somethi
That must, as if it had not holy b

SING of the O’Rahilly,
Do not deny his right;
Sing a 'the’ before his name;
Allow that he, despite
All those learned historians,

THE host is riding from Knocknar
And over the grave of Clooth-na-B
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away
Empty your heart of its mortal dre

Bolt and bar the shutter,
For the foul winds blow:
Our minds are at their best this n
And I seem to know
That everything outside us is