’Twas Eight-Hour Day, and proudly <br />Old Labour led the way; <br />The drums were bearing loudly, <br />The crowded streets were gay; <br />But something touched my heart like pain, <br />I could not check the sigh <br />That rose within my bosom when <br />The Irish Flag went by. <br /> <br />Bright flags were raised about it <br />And one of them my own: <br />And patriots trod beneath it— <br />But it seemed all alone. <br />I thought of ruined Ireland <br />While crystals from the sky <br />Fell soft like tears by angels shed, <br />As the Irish Flag went by. <br /> <br />I love the dark green standard <br />As Irish patriots do; <br />It waves above the rebels, <br />And I’m a rebel too, <br />I thought of Ireland’s darkest years, <br />Her griefs that follow fast; <br />For drooping as ’twere drenched with tears <br />The Irish Flag went past. <br /> <br />And though ’twas not in Erin <br />That my forefathers trod; <br />And though my wandering footsteps <br />Ne’er pressed the “dear old sod”, <br />I felt the wrongs the Irish feel <br />Beneath the northern sky. <br />And felt the rebel in my heart <br />When the Irish Flag went by. <br /> <br />I tell you, men of England, <br />Who rule the land by might; <br />I tell you, Irish traitors <br />Who sell the sons of light, <br />The tyranny shall fail at last, <br />That changeful days are nigh; <br />And you shall dip your red flag yet, <br />When the Irish Flag goes by.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-the-irish-flag-went-by/
