The hope lives on age after age,
Earth with its beauty might be won
For labor as a heritage,
For this has Ireland lost a son.
To the Memory of Some I knew Who are Dead and Who Loved Ireland (1917)
The hope lives on age after age,
Earth with its beauty might be won
For labor as a heritage,
For this has Ireland lost a son.
To the Memory of Some I knew Who are Dead and Who Loved Ireland (1917)