---

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - Ireland’s Vengeance
Work rating: Low

This is thy day, thy day of all the years.
 Ireland! The night of anger and mute gloom,
 Where thou didst sit, has vanished with thy tears.
 Thou shalt no longer weep in thy lone home
 The dead they slew for thee, or nurse thy doom,
 Or fan the smoking flax of thy desire
 Their hatred could not quench. Thy hour is come;
 And these, if they would reap, must reap in fire.
 --What shall thy vengeance be? In that long night
 Thou hast essayed thy wrath in many ways,
 Slaughter and havoc and Hell`s deathless spite.
 They taught thee vengeance who thus schooled thy days,
Taught all they knew, but not this one divine
 Vengeance, to love them. Be that vengeance thine!
Source
The script ran 0.002 seconds.