To God and Ireland true

by
Ellen O’Leary (1831–89)


I SIT beside my darling’s grave,

Who in the prison died,

And though my tears fall thick and fast

I think of him with pride:

Ay, softly fall my tears like dew,

For one to God and Ireland true.


“I love my God o’er all,” he said,

“And then I love my land,

And next I love my Lily sweet,

Who pledged me her white hand:

To each—to all—I ’m ever true,

To God, to Ireland, and to you.”


No tender nurse his hard bed smooth’d

Or softly rais’d his head;

He fell asleep and woke in heaven

Ere I knew he was dead;

Yet why should I my darling rue?

He was to God and Ireland true.


Oh, ’t is a glorious memory!

I ’m prouder than a queen,

To sit beside my hero’s grave

And think on what has been;

And, O my darling, I am true

To God—to Ireland—and to you!

An old tree in my memories of my university.

A very old tree standing in the first groundof my university when entering from the side gate. Very old indeed that we can see the marks of all weathers on its strong bark and aged skin full of wrinkles all over. Source of shade for its old companions and an inspiration of stayin' strong in all circumstances to the young emotional blood. A tree which is like a mother whose shade is very lovely and lap is so comfortable.

Great Leader

A historical picture. Quaid on 14th August, 1947.