I do not want to climb this hill again,

This tomb of kings.

Over their bones the grass has grown again

Three thousand times.

Their names continually bring back again

The tragic loss

Of those who died

In all the high futility of pride

Thrown down by mediocrity of mind.

Let us forget

The great flags flaunting the dark wind.

Let us forget

Wild words flung forth before a cheering crowd.

Let us forget

A flicker of flame upon the long hill of Slane.

In this our time

Great names are worn

By mean and ignorant men.

March 1967