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William Butler Yeats - I Am Of Ireland
Work rating: Medium

`I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,` cried she.
`Come out of charity,
Come dance with me in Ireland.`

One man, one man alone
In that outlandish gear,
One solitary man
Of all that rambled there
Had turned his stately head.
That is a long way off,
And time runs on,` he said,
`And the night grows rough.`

`I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,` cried she.
`Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.`

`The fiddlers are all thumbs,
Or the fiddle-string accursed,
The drums and the kettledrums
And the trumpets all are burst,
And the trombone,` cried he,
`The trumpet and trombone,`
And cocked a malicious eye,
`But time runs on, runs on.`

I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,` cried she.
"Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.`
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