Ireland for the Irish Rhymes and Reasons Against Landlordism with a Preface on Fenianism and Republicanism. By W. J. Linton, Formerly of the Irish "Nation" |
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AT BAY |
 | Ireland for the Irish |  |
AT BAY
Potatoes are rotting:
Rottener foes
The land are blotting;
The corn yet grows:
Up, brothers mine! are not your sickles keen?
And the wheat ears are not green.
Rottener foes
The land are blotting;
The corn yet grows:
Up, brothers mine! are not your sickles keen?
And the wheat ears are not green.
Potatoes are failing:
Hark to the Hours!
Listen to Famine's wailing!—
The corn is ours.
Forth, O my brothers! forth with sickles keen!
What do you wait to glean?
Hark to the Hours!
Listen to Famine's wailing!—
The corn is ours.
Forth, O my brothers! forth with sickles keen!
What do you wait to glean?
True men despairing!
The corn yet stands;
Yet waits your daring:—
O famish'd Lands!
Forth to the harvest; let your sickles keen
Gleam the red shocks between.
The corn yet stands;
Yet waits your daring:—
O famish'd Lands!
Forth to the harvest; let your sickles keen
Gleam the red shocks between.
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