|ELCore.Net > Poetry > Catholic Poets > Poems of Joseph Mary Plunkett|
|Moriturus Te Salutat|
These words that may not reach your heart|
Are wrung from mine in bitter pain,
You, reading, but despise their art
That is not art but bloodin vain
The blood is ebbing from my heart.
The passions of my tortured mind|
Trouble but lightly your calm soul
No ugliness besets the blind
A shadow on darkness is the whole
Of my misfortune in your mind.
And yet I love you that you say|
You will not love metruth is hard,
’Twere so much easier to give way
And stay the death-stroke, my reward
Courage, brave heart! ’tis Love you slay.
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Lane Core Jr. (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Created March 18, 2001; not revised.