Treasure Island

Thomas Kettle

(1880-1916 / Ireland)

To My Daughter Betty


In wiser days, my darling rosebud, blown
To beauty proud as was your Mother’s prime.
In that desired, delayed, incredible time,
You’ll ask why I abandoned you, my own,
And the dear heart that was your baby throne,
To die with death. And oh! they’ll give you rhyme
And reason: some will call the thing sublime,
And some decry it in a knowing tone.
So here, while the mad guns curse overhead,
And tired men sigh with mud for couch and floor,
Know that we fools, now with the foolish dead,
Died not for flag, nor King, nor Emperor,
But for a dream, born in a herdsmen shed,
And for the secret Scripture of the poor.

Submitted: Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?


Thomas Kettle's Other Poems


Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (To My Daughter Betty by Thomas Kettle )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..
[Hata Bildir]