free-verse48 lines
Dublin At Dawn.
by Francis William Lauderdale AdamsIn the chill grey summer dawn-light
We pass through the empty streets;
The rattling wheels are all silent;
No friend his fellow greets.
Here and there, at the corners,
A man in a great-coat stands;
A bayonet hangs by his side, and
A rifle is in his hands.
This is a conquered city;
It speaks of war not peace;
And that's one of the English soldiers
The English call "police."
You see, at the present moment
That noble country of mine
Is boiling with indignation
At the memory of a "crime."
In a path in the Phoenix Park where
The children romped and ran,
An Irish ruffian met his doom,
And an English gentleman.
For a hundred and over a hundred
Years on the country side
Men and women and children
Have slaved and starved and died,
That those who slaved and starved them
Might spend their earnings then,
And the Irish ruffians have a "good time,"
And the English gentlemen.
And that's why at the present moment
That noble country of mine
Is boiling with indignation
At the memory of a "crime."
For the Irish ruffians (they tell me),
And it looks as if 'twere true,
And the English gentlemen are so scarce,
We could not spare those two!
In the chill grey summer dawn-light
We pass through the empty streets;
The rattling wheels are all silent;
No friend his fellow greets.
Here and there, at the corners,
A man in a great-coat stands;
A bayonet hangs by his side, and
A rifle is in his hands.
This is a conquered city;
It speaks of war not peace;
And that's one of the English soldiers
The English call "police."