YORK STREET

By James Stephens

If in winter you shall drive

Birds from crumbs, you shall not thrive;

But if you feed them, they will fly

To sing it sweetly on the sky.

So throw up the window, and

Scatter with a lavish hand,

Taking care you do not spill

Flower-pots from the window-sill,

Singing, “Ireland shall be free

From the centre to the sea”;

Singing bravely once again,

“We are Dan O'Connell' s Men.”