“TO THE IRISH DEAD” BY ESSEX EVANS
Reading edition
The author of these heart-touching lines is a Queenslander of Welsh derivation. Sir Herbert Warren, K. C. V. O., of the University of Oxford, had this to say of him and of the Toast: “They say that no one but an Irishman understands Ireland, that she will listen to no one but an Irishman. Wales is near to her in geography and in race. I have thought she perhaps might listen to a Welsh voice. She has one today, now whispering, now ringing, across St. George’s Channel. Will she heed it? Who knows?”
TIS a green isle set in a silver water, A fairy isle where the shamrock grows, Land of Legend, the Dream-Queen’s daughter— Out of the Fairies’ hands she rose. They touched her harp with a tender sighing, A spirit-song from a world afar, They touched her heart with a fire undying To fight and follow her battle-star. Too long, too long thro’ the grey years growing Feud and faction have swept between The thistledown and the red rose blowing, And the three-fold leaf of the shamrock green; But the seal of blood, ye shall break it never: With rifles grounded and bare of head We drink to the dead who live forever— A silent toast—To the Irish dead!