A dream! a dream! an ancient dream!
Yet, ere peace come to Inisfail,
Some weapons on some field must gleam,
Some burning glory fire the Gael.
That field may lie beneath the sun,
Fair for the treading of an host:
That field in realms of thought be won,
And armed minds do their uttermost:
Some way, to faithful Inisfail,
Shall come the majesty and awe
Of martial truth, that must prevail,
To lay on all the eternal law.
Lionel Johnson.