The Grey Plume, Francis Carlin.

The Grey Plume.
by Francis Carlin.

The grey heron feather
O’Dogherty wore
Still floats o’er the heather,
But not as before,
And well may the heron
Take pride in his plume
With the head of O’Dogherty
Red in the tomb.

The valleys are spurning
Gay flowers, beneath
The purple of mourning
Aloft on the heath;
And well may the sorrow
Of nature be shown
While the heron is happy
In wild Innishowen.

Bright was the bonnet
That guided his men,
But the grey feather on it
Fell red in the glen,
And well may the Saxon
Take pride in its fall,
While birds wear their plumage
Above Donegal.

Ochone, that the feather
O’Dogherty wore
Still floats o’er the heather,
But not as before.
Och, och! That the heron
Should fly with grey plume,
O’er Cahir O’Dogherty,
Red in his tomb.