An Irish Poem
October 2nd, 2006
I recently finished reading the book, “How the Irish Saved Civilization” by Thomas Cahill. It is a wonderfully written book. One particular poem caught my eye for it’s simplicity and beauty as well as the truth it lays out. It’s written by Joseph Plunkett.
I see his blood upon the rose And in the stars the glory of his eyes His body gleam amid eternal snows, His tears fall from the skies. I see his face in every flower; The thunder and the singing of the birds Are but his voice-and carven by his power Rocks are his written words. All pathways by his feet are worn, His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea, His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn, His cross is every tree.
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