THE SONS OF PATRICK BY JAMES B. DOLLARD Into the mists of the Pagan island Bearing God’s message great Patrick came; The Druid altars on plain and highland Fell at the sound of his mighty name! Swift was the conquest--with hearts upswelling The Faith they took, and to God they swore: That precious spark from their bosoms’ dwelling, Man’s guile or torture should snatch no more. And ever since, while the wide world wonders This steadfast people their strength reveal, As Time Earth’s kingdoms and empires sunders, They stand by Patrick in ranks of steel! The nations mock them, like Christ’s tormentors; “Descend,” they cry, “from your cross of shame; Abjure the Faith--see the road that enters The groves of pleasure and wealth and fame!” Like those that passed where the Cross rose dimly Their wise beards wagging--“What fools!” they say; But the Sons of Patrick make answer grimly: “Our God we’ve chosen--the price we’ll pay. “Ever about us the foes’ commotion, The anguish sweat on our brows ne’er dry; Our martyr’s bones strew the land and ocean, Lone deserts echo our exiles’ cry. “Unto our hearts is earth’s pride forbidden, Unto our hands is its gold denied; We do not question the Purpose hidden-- Let Him who fashioned our souls decide! “Yet though once more to us choice were given, And the long aeons were backward rolled, We’d walk again before Earth and Heaven The blood-stained pathway we walked of old!” SONG OF THE LITTLE VILLAGES BY JAMES B. DOLLARD The pleasant little villages that grace the Irish glynns Down among the wheatfields--up amid the whins, The little white-walled villages crowding close together, Clinging to the Old Sod in spite of wind and weather: Ballytarsney, Ballymore, Ballyboden, Boyle, Ballingarry, Ballymagorry by the Banks of Foyle, Ballylaneen, Ballyporeen, Bansha, Ballysadare, Ballybrack, Ballinalack, Barna, Ballyclare. The cozy little villages that shelter from the mist, Where the great West Walls by ocean spray are kissed; The happy little villages that cuddle in the sun When blackberries ripen and the harvest work is done. Corrymeela, Croaghnakeela, Clogher, Cahirciveen, Cappaharoe, Carrigaloe, Cashel and Coosheen, Castlefinn, Carrigtohill, Crumlin, Clara, Clane, Carrigaholt, Carrigaline, Cloghjordan and Coolrain. The dreamy little villages, where by the fires at night, Old Sanachies with ghostly tale the boldest hearts affright; The crooning of the wind-blast is the wailing Banshee’s cry, And when the silver hazels stir they say the fairies sigh, Kilfenora, Kilfinnane, Kinnity, Killylea, Kilmoganny, Kiltamagh, Kilronan and Kilrea, Killashandra, Kilmacow, Killiney, Killashee, Killenaule, Killmyshall, Killorglin and Killeagh.