When I Die Dublin Will Be Written

Hold To The Now, The Here, Through Which All Future Plunges To The Past.

He Could Not Feel Her Near Him In The Darkness Nor Hear Her Voice Touch His Ear. He Waited For Some Minutes Listening. He Could Hear Nothing: The Night Was Perfectly Silent. He Listened Again: Perfectly Silent. He Felt That He Was Alone.

Pity Is The Feeling Which Arrests The Mind In The Presence Of Whatesoever Is Grave And Constant In Human Sufferings And Unites It With The Human Sufferer.

Oh Ireland My First And Only Love Where Christ And Caesar Are Hand In Glove!

Like The Tender Fires Of Stars Moments Of Their Life Together, That No One Knew Of Or Would Ever Know Of, Broke Upon And Illuminated His Memory.