’TIS a green isle set in a silver water, br A fairy isle where the shamrock grows. br Land of Legend, the Dream-Queen’s daughter— br Out of the Fairies’ hands She rose. br They touched Her harp with a tender sighing, br A spirit-song from a world afar, br They touched Her heart with a fire undying br To fight and follow Her battle-star. br Too long, too long thro’ the grey years growing br Feud and faction have swept between br The Thistledown and the red Rose blowing br And the three-fold leaf of the Shamrock green; br But the seal of blood, ye shall break it never: br With rifles grounded and bare of head br We drink to the dead who live forever br A silent toast—To the Irish dead! br br ’Tis an Irish cheer on the hillside ringing, br Where, checked and broken, the vanguards reel, br But on and upward and forward swinging, br The glittering line of the Irish steel! br Like points of light ’mid the boulders lying br Gleam and redden their bayonets keen.