After Death

SHALL mine eyes behold thy glory, O my country?

Shall mine eyes behold thy glory?

Or shall the darkness close around them ere the

sunblaze break at last upon thy story?

When the nations ope for thee their queenly circle, as a new

sweet sister hail thee,

Shall these lips be seal’d in callous death and

silence, that have known but to bewail thee?

Shall the ear be deaf that only loved thy praises when

all men their tribute bring thee?

Shall the mouth be clay that sang thee in thy

squalor when all poets’ mouths shall sing thee?

Ah! the harpings and the salvoes and the shouting of thy

exiled sons returning!

I should hear though dead and mouldered, and the

grave-damps should not chill my bosom’s burning.

Ah! the tramp of feet victorious! I should hear

them ’mid the shamrocks and the mosses,

And my heart would toss within the shroud and quiver

as a captive dreamer tosses.

I should turn and rend the cere-clothes round

me, giant sinews I should borrow—

Crying, ‘O my brothers, I have also loved

her in her loneliness and sorrow!

‘Let me join with you the jubilant procession;

let me chant with you her story;

Then contented I shall go back to the shamrocks,

now mine eyes have seen her glory!’