Shells of her Glory, murmuring, "Be bold!"
Lo! where the green and orange morn unfurls,
See Erin rise. How shine her golden tresses!
They form her crown, for trailing rocks down whirls,
And reaching all the under-sea recesses,
They draw about her brow, the rarest pearls—
Love for what frees and hate for what oppresses!
LIBERTY, THE LIGHT TO PEACE
All hail to those who, through the stormy night,