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...WHITE NOCTURNE by CONRAD AIKEN DEDICATION IN THESE DAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH POETICAL ABSTRACTS: 2. METAPHYSICAL by HAYDEN CARRUTH LETTER TO JOSEPH WARREN by ROBERT FROST SPRINGTIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO NANNETTE FALK-AUERBACH by SIDNEY LANIER WALT WHITMAN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |