IRELAND never was contented. Say you so? You are demented. Ireland was contented when All could use the sword and pen, And when Tara rose so high That her turrets split the sky, And about her courts were seen Liveried angels robed in green, Wearing, by St. Patrick's bounty, Emeralds big as half the county. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APPARENT FAILURE by ROBERT BROWNING THE WIND'S VISIT by EMILY DICKINSON GEORGE WASHINGTON by JOHN HALL INGHAM BURIAL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE GRAVE OF LOVE by THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK MARSYAS by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS L.E.L. by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |