Not since the Gael was sold At Aughrim! Not since to cold, Dull death went Owen Roe! Not since the drowning of Clann Adam in the days of Noe Brought men to hush! Has such a tale of woe Come to us In such a rush! The True Flower of the Blood of the Place Has fallen! The True Clean-Wheat of the Gael Is reaped! Destruction be upon Death! For he has come, And taken from our tree The topmost Blackberry! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STANZAS FOR MUSIC (3) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON OFF THE GROUND by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT by ALFRED TENNYSON WHEN DEATH HAS LOST THE KEY by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): MEDEA'S PARTING WORDS by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS A MARRIED WOMAN by THOMAS CAREW INSCRIPTIONS FOR A SEAT BY THE ROAD SIDE HALF-WAY UP A STEEP HILL by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |