For The Years, He Felt, Had Not

If The Irish Programme Did Not Insist On The Irish Language I Suppose I Could Call Myself A Nationalist. As It Is, I Am Content Torecognize Myself An Exile: And, Prophetically, A Repudiated One.

A Way A Lone A Last A Loved A Long The Riverrun, Past Eve And Adam's, From Swerve Of Shore To Bend Of Bay, Brings Us By A Commodius Vicus Of Recirculation Back To Howth Castle And Environs.

What's Yours Is Mine And What's Mine Is My Own.

And When All Was Said And Done The Lies A Fellow Told About Himself Couldn't Probably Hold A Proverbial Candle To The Wholesale Whoppers Other Fellows Coined About Him.

I Hear The Ruin Of All Space, Shattered Glass And Toppled Masonry, And Time One Livid Final Flame.