Not since the Gael was sold At Aughrim! Not since to cold, Dull death went Owen Roe! Not since the drowning of Clann Adam in the days of Noe Brought men to hush! Has such a tale of woe Come to us In such a rush! The True Flower of the Blood of the Place Has fallen! The True Clean-Wheat of the Gael Is reaped! Destruction be upon Death! For he has come, And taken from our tree The topmost Blackberry! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBIN ADAIR by CAROLINE KEPPEL THE HARVEST MOON; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS by THOMAS MOORE I HEARD YOUR SOLEMN-SWEET PIPES by WALT WHITMAN ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 9. TO CURIO by MARK AKENSIDE |