We keep the past for pride.
Nor war nor peace shall strike our poets dumb:
No rawest squad of all Death's volunteers,
No simplest man who died
To tear your flag down, in the bitter years,
But shall have praise, and three times thrice again,
When, at that table, men shall drink with men.
As political poetry, this may be open to amendment; as poetic politics,
it is sound, decisive, and answerable.
THE END
THE NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS, THORNTON STREET, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE
End of Project Gutenberg's The Open Secret of Ireland, by T. M. Kettle
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