 | My Lyrical Life |  |
411
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT.
Through Centuries did Erin grope
In dust and ashes for lost hope;
Or darkly sought around her cave
An outlet from a living grave,
She sadly strove to tell her wrongs—
Grown venerably gray—in songs;
Or looked, with breast too full for speech,
Mute at the Heaven beyond her reach.
And now she turns to you, My Land!
Heart-open at your proffered hand:
Into a new life's quickening womb,
One smile of light transforms her Tomb.
In dust and ashes for lost hope;
Or darkly sought around her cave
An outlet from a living grave,
She sadly strove to tell her wrongs—
Grown venerably gray—in songs;
Or looked, with breast too full for speech,
Mute at the Heaven beyond her reach.
And now she turns to you, My Land!
Heart-open at your proffered hand:
Into a new life's quickening womb,
One smile of light transforms her Tomb.
Through Centuries of doubts and fears
She drained her Cup of bitter tears;
To the last dregs she drank it up,
And now behold an empty Cup!
With the forlornest face on earth,
And praying hands, she holds it forth—
Say, will you fill it with glad wine,
Or make it brim again with brine?
Or shall we quaff together instead
The cup that blushes a guilty red?
You have your choice; no time to halt;
Our hearts are with her in revolt!
She drained her Cup of bitter tears;
To the last dregs she drank it up,
And now behold an empty Cup!
With the forlornest face on earth,
And praying hands, she holds it forth—
Say, will you fill it with glad wine,
Or make it brim again with brine?
Or shall we quaff together instead
The cup that blushes a guilty red?
You have your choice; no time to halt;
Our hearts are with her in revolt!
| My Lyrical Life | |