Classic Poem

The gorse is golden on the hills,
And daisies white bestud the lea,
The grass is green in every glen—
So Ireland wears her colours three.

Hope throbs afresh in Irish hearts;
In Irish eyes the light of yore
Glows bright and strong, to tell the world
That might can quench it never more.

The spears of dawn pierce every cloud,
To clear a path for Ireland's May;
The night is past, the Day has come—
God guide us on the upward way!