Erse
Pale-eyed, dark-haired, fresh-faced, the Irish folk who lisp
Cool Angloid phrases with soft, smooth sibilances
Strangely belying those more harsh, strong gutterals
Which, (unfamiliar to my English ears), appear
To be inherent in their native Celtic tongue,
That often sounds as bald and as severe as those
Exposed, remote high places which are their delight
But stare down sternly on the indigent reality
In which this stubborn people struggle for subsistency.
