THE CAGED EAGLE.
. . . I went the other day
To see the birds and beasts they keep enmewed
In the London Zoo. One of the first I saw—
One of the first I noticed, was an eagle.
Ragged, befouled, within his iron bars
He sat without a movement or a sound,
And, when I stood and pitying looked at him,
I saw his great sad eyes that winkless gazed
Out to the horizon sky. I passed from there,
And walked about the gardens, hither and thither,
Till all the afternoon was spent. Returning then
To seek my home, again by chance I passed
The eagle’s cage, and stood again, and looked,
And saw his great sad eyes that winkless gazed
Out to the horizon sky. So I went home . . .
The eagle is Ireland!
“IRELAND.”
O we have loved you through cold and rain
And pitiless frost,
Consuming our offering of blood and of brain
Gladly again and again and again,
Though it all seemed lost,
Ireland, Ireland!
O we will fight, fight on for you till
Your anguish is past,
The wronged ones righted, the tyrants still.—
Though God has not saved you, yet we will,
At the last, at the last,
Ireland, Ireland!
O we will love you in warmth and light
And the happy day,
When you have forgotten the terrible night,
Standing proud and beautiful bright
For ever and aye,
Ireland, Ireland!