TO IRELAND'S DEAD

By Norah Mary Holland

Ah, golden youths! who leave for evermore

Your ports of quiet breath,

Turning your prows from Life's familiar shore

Forth with adventurous Death.

With that great comrade sailing, side by side,

To meet your warrior peers,

Whose names have starred the roll of Erin's pride

Down all the echoing years.

Your sunlit sails flash for a moment's space,

Fade, waver and are gone;

But, straining through the mists, our spirits trace

A glory lingering on.

Farewell, great fellowship! Sail on, nor mourn

Your ports of quiet breath;

Your prows with singing and with laughter turn

Forth with adventurous Death.