Garland Globe | 1908-03-14 | Page 3 | For Ireland

FOR IRFXAND I A flcrco flamo burst, at boyhood's dawn, within my tender breast. Impassioned lovo my soul consumed for motherland, opprest; ;H Her glories gilt my waking hours, hor woes my dreams o'orcaat, jl And tho lovo that fed my heart's first fire, plnaso God, shall light my Ia3t H There's not a littlo boll that blows In Ireland's dewy glens, ' 1 Thcro's not a shagan shakes a spear abovo her many fens, H Thero'a not a tiny blado of grass on all her thousand hills, H Hut this fond breast with tender lovo to overflowing fills. H Oh, Ireland! for your holy sako I'll Joyful bear all pain; tTo your high causo I consocrato my heart, my hand, my brain. t H If lifo nnd strlfo avail mo not to snvo that soul ono sigh, ' H Then, crowning Joy, In your sweet nnmo lot ono unworthy die. H