THREE old hermits took the air
By a cold and desolate sea,
First was muttering a prayer,
Second rummaged for a flea;
On a windy stone, the third,

He. Dear, I must be gone
While night Shuts the eyes
Of the household spies;
That song announces dawn.
She. No, night’s bird and love’s

CUMHAL called out, bending his
Till Dathi came and stood,
With a blink in his eyes, at the c
Between the wind and the wood.
And Cumhal said, bending his knee

‘O WORDS are lightly spoken,’
Said Pearse to Connolly,
‘Maybe a breath of politic words
Has withered our Rose Tree;
Or maybe but a wind that blows

Who will go drive with Fergus now
And pierce the deep wood’s woven s
And dance upon the level shore?
Young man, lift up your russet bro
And lift your tender eyelids, maid

‘I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,’ cried she.
‘Come out of charity,
Come dance with me in Ireland.’

OUT-WORN heart, in a time out-w
Come clear of the nets of wrong an
Laugh, heart, again in the grey tw
Sigh, heart, again in the dew of t
Your mother Eire is aways young,

O THOUGHT, fly to her when the
Awakens an old memory, and say,
‘Your strength, that is so lofty a
It might call up a new age, callin
The queens that were imagined long

GOOD Father John O’Hart
In penal days rode out
To a Shoneen who had free lands
And his own snipe and trout.
In trust took he John’s lands;

AROUND me the images of thirty
An ambush; pilgrims at the water-s
Casement upon trial, half hidden b
Guarded; Griffith staring in hyst
Kevin O’Higgins’ countenance that