(Easter 1916) br br Censored lies that mimic truth… br Censored truth as pale as fear… br My heart is like a rousing bell - br And but the dead to hear… br br My heart is like a mother bird, br Circling ever higher, br And the nest-tree rimmed about br By a forest fire… br br My heart is like a lover foiled br By a broken stair - br They are fighting to-night in Sackville Street, br And I am not there!br br Lola Ridgebr br