The Secret Splendour

Of the Irish Revolt

Who could put a bolt

On your swift mind

That ever could find

A cure for each ill

In the land of your love?

On the edge of the Liffey

You asked your warden

If in the black garden

You could step out for a "spill".

Swift into the Liffey,

God's wintry water,

You plunged with the shrill

Shots over your head.

Cold stream, cold lead—

But what did you care?

Heaven was pleased with your prayer

That if the next dawn's

Light found you in safety

You'd give the grey river

Two perfect swans

Years later, Yeats thrilled

 To see how the bare

Liffey grew fair

With your vow fulfilled—

 O Doctor Gogarty

Who took new birth

From a white-winged pair

To free Irish earth!

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