MY eyelids red and heavy arc br With bending o'er the smold'ring peat. br I know the Aeneid now by heart, br My Virgil read in cold and heat, br In loneliness and hunger smart. br And I know Homer, too, I ween, br As Munster poets know Ossian. br br And I must walk this road that winds br Twixt bog and bog, while east there lies br A city with its men and books; br With treasures open to the wise, br Heart-words from equals, comrade-looks; br Down here they have but tale and song, br They talk Repeal the whole night long. br br 'You teach Greek verbs and Latin nouns,' br The dreamer of Young Ireland said, br 'You do not hear the muffled call, br The sword being forged, the far-off tread br Of hosts to meet as Gael and Gall br What good to us your wisdom-store, br Your Latin verse, your Grecian lore?' br And what to me is Gael or Gall? br Less than the Latin or the Greek br I teach these by the dim rush-light br In smoky cabins night and week.