A rare time for death in Ireland;<\/p>\n
and in the battle’s prologue<\/p>\n
many a common man, woman, and child<\/p>\n
had said goodbye to work and love and play;<\/p>\n
and many more<\/p>\n
in an hour or so<\/p>\n
would receive a terse message<\/p>\n
that life no longer needed them.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
There they are,<\/p>\n
lying so quiet:<\/p>\n
a child surprised in the doorway;<\/p>\n
an old man stretched in the street;<\/p>\n
a young man near a lamp-post<\/p>\n
which he had clutched<\/p>\n
when the bullet struck him,<\/p>\n
and down which he had slid when he died,<\/p>\n
his curiously white face<\/p>\n
containing wide eyes staring upwards,<\/p>\n
as if asking the sky why this had happened,<\/p>\n
a stiff arm still half-encircling the lamp standard;<\/p>\n
a young lassie in holiday attire,<\/p>\n
lying on her face,<\/p>\n
maybe hurrying home<\/p>\n
when she heard the uproar,<\/p>\n
but going too slow,<\/p>\n
for on the brilliant white blouse<\/p>\n
a purple patch of death<\/p>\n
was spreading over the middle of the back;<\/p>\n
an old woman on the floor of her tenement room,<\/p>\n
alone,<\/p>\n
her blood seeping through the ceiling below;<\/p>\n
all of the goodly company<\/p>\n
of the dead who died for Ireland.<\/p>\n
Jesu, have pity!<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Quiet, comrades, quiet.<\/p>\n
It was necessary that you should die for Ireland too.<\/p>\n
You didn’t want to die.<\/p>\n
I know, I know.<\/p>\n
You signed no proclamation;<\/p>\n
you invaded no building;<\/p>\n
you pulled no trigger;<\/p>\n
I know, I know.<\/p>\n
But Ireland needed you all the same.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Many will die like that<\/p>\n
before Ireland can go free.<\/p>\n
They must put up with it.<\/p>\n
You will be unknown forever;<\/p>\n
you died without a word of praise;<\/p>\n
you will be buried without even a shadowy ceremony;<\/p>\n
no bugle will call your name;<\/p>\n
no gunshot will let loose<\/p>\n
brave echoes over your grave;<\/p>\n
you will not be numbered among the accepted slain.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
But listen, comrades, listen:<\/p>\n
Whitman will be there to meet you;<\/p>\n
he will marshall you into the march-past<\/p>\n
with the greater dead;<\/p>\n
on the cornet he will give you a shrill salute.<\/p>\n
Listen: there it goes!<\/p>\n
Forward!<\/p>\n
March!<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
–Sean O\u2019Casey<\/p>\n
from Drums Under the Window<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
(arranged and lineated by Patrick J. Hill)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A rare time for death in Ireland; and in the battle’s prologue many a common man, woman, and child had said goodbye to work and love and play; and many more in an hour or so would receive a terse… Continue Reading →<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":89,"featured_media":0,"parent":84,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.evergreen.edu\/irishdrama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/159"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.evergreen.edu\/irishdrama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.evergreen.edu\/irishdrama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.evergreen.edu\/irishdrama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/89"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.evergreen.edu\/irishdrama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=159"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/sites.evergreen.edu\/irishdrama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/159\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.evergreen.edu\/irishdrama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/84"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.evergreen.edu\/irishdrama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=159"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}