"The old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand, Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand; Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies, But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
The wind has bundled up the clouds high over Knocknarea, And thrown the thunder on the stones for all that Maeve can say. Angers that are like noisy clouds have set our hearts abeat; But we have all bent low and low and kissed the quiet feet Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
The yellow pool has overflowed high up on Clooth-na-Bare, For the wet winds are blowing out of the clinging air; Like heavy flooded waters our bodies and our blood; But purer than a tall candle before the Holy Rood Is Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan."
A Poem by William Butler Yeats
Happy St. Patrick's Day, BIGLOOK!
Six months later - where are the survivors of the massacre at Benghazi? The silence of Obama and his minions on their Fate says more than any story they could put out!
Fiat Justitia, Ruat Coelum!
Genuflectimus non ad principem sed ad Principem Pacis!
Listen, O isles, unto me; and hearken, ye people, from far; The LORD hath called me from the womb; from the bowels of my mother hath he made mention of my name. (Isaiah 49:1 KJV)
25 posted on 03/17/2013 6:50:18 PM PDT by ConorMacNessa
(HM/2 USN, 3/5 Marines RVN 1969 - St. Michael the Archangel defend us in Battle!)
