Page:The Tricolour, Poems of the Irish Revolution.djvu/54

 The four winds heard and strove with mighty hands To bear him back to that far northern height Where he was born; loosed from his earthly bonds, He poised, a moment's flight.

Then to the wind in passionate embrace His branches moved—out sung his parting breath. He leaned to freedom from his prison place, Whose freedom was but death.

Better so lie, from this dire bondage free, O! heart, who knew the silence of the snows, Than stand alone, O solitary tree! Where English greenwood grows.

Better to die than live in dull disgrace, O! soul that dreamed the glory of the dream; To be for sparrows but a resting place, Who heard the eagles scream.