Page:The Tricolour, Poems of the Irish Revolution.djvu/88

 “Kneel ye down, lest your eyes should dare them, Kneel ye down and your beads be saying.” “Lord, on their heads Thy wrath deliver,” This is the prayer that my lips are praying, My heart is praying for a dead soldier.

“Best cheer the path of the men victorious, For he is dead and his blade lies broken, His march is far where no aid can follow, And for his people he left no token, He left no token, the dead soldier.”

The way of the sword a man can follow, See the young child with his gold hair gleaming. When falls the oak must the acorn perish? He lifts the blade and his eyes are dreaming, He dreams the dream of the dead soldier.