by Paul C. Binotto
Oh, sweet mother pelican,
Do set your wet red kiss
As seal upon daughter Éireann’s
Thirsting waxen lips.
That she may taste from you, what is
Purest mother’s unmolest’d “Yes”.
Because you had no other milk to give,
Crimson stains your tender breast
To serve yourself to an
Other life, yours to save, not end.
To preserve the wealth of an
Other life, yours you spent instead.