Clinton Scollard


  By the "Church of the Name" lies Desmond,
    The body of Desmond lies,
  And the wind of the east cries "Desmond,"
    And "Desmond" the west wind cries.

  And the wind of the south calls "Desmond,"
    And "Desmond" the north wind calls,
  As it sweeps round the keep Ardnagreagh,
    The keep of the crumbling walls.

  And the dawn wind grieves for Desmond,
    And "Desmond" the night wind sighs;
  And where is the head of Desmond,
    He of the dusk-deep eyes?

  They buried the body of Desmond
    Hard by the "Church of the Name,"
  But they hung the head of Desmond
    High o'er the Gate of Shame.

  Yet he was a brave man, Desmond,
    A man of a hundred score,
  So all the winds of the upper air,
    They mourn for him evermore.

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