IRELAND never was contented. Say you so? You are demented. Ireland was contented when All could use the sword and pen, And when Tara rose so high That her turrets split the sky, And about her courts were seen Liveried angels robed in green, Wearing, by St. Patrick's bounty, Emeralds big as half the county. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COCK AND THE FOX, OR THE TALE OF THE NUN'S PRIEST by GEOFFREY CHAUCER AGAINST HOPE by ABRAHAM COWLEY A LITTLE CHRISTMAS BASKET by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR PRELUDE TO THE NANTAHALAS by BARBARA BOWEN EXTRACTS FROM VERSES WRITTEN FOR THE NEW YEAR, 1823 by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD IT'S HARD TO SAY by BERTON BRALEY A PLAIN ACCOUNT OF THE NATURE AND DESIGN OF TRUE RELIGION by JOHN BYROM |