II
Be green upon their graves, O happy Spring,
For they were young and eager who are dead ;
Of all things that are young and quivering
With eager life be they rememl)ered :
They move not here, they have gone to the clay,
They cannot die again for liberty ;
Be they remembered of their land for aye ;
Green be their graves and green their memory.
Fragrance and beauty come in with the green, The ragged bushes put on sweet attire. The birds forget how chill these airs have been, The clouds bloom out again and move in fire ; Blue is the dawn of day, calm is the lake. And merry sounds are fitful in the morn ; In covert deep the young blackbirds awake, They shake their wings and sing upon the morn.
At springtime of the year you came and s\\aing Green flags above the newly-greening earth ; Scarce were the leaves unfolded, they were young. Nor had outgrown the wrinkles of their birth : Comrades they thought you of their pleasant hour, They had but glimpsed the sun when they saw you ; They heard your songs e'er birds hud singing power. And drank your blood e'er that they drunk the dew.
�� �
