personal charm and his love of humanity are as amply justified in the dedicatory sonnet to his wife:
Faith lasts? Nay, since I knew your yielded eyes,
I am content with sight...of paradise—
in the impassioned appeal 'To Young Ireland'; in the subdued pathos of the lines 'On Leaving Ireland; July 14, 1916,' when in the glow of the sunset he could think only of bayonet flash and bugle call,
And knew that even I shall fall on sleep.
He notes at the head of these lines that 'the pathos of departure is indubitable,' and adds a reference to his essay 'On Saying Good-Bye.' If you turn to that essay in The Day's Burden these are its closing words: '"However amusing the comedy may have been," wrote Pascal, "there is always blood in the fifth act. They scatter a little dust on your face; and then all is over for ever." Blood there may be, but blood does not necessarily mean tragedy. The wisdom of humility bids us pray that in that fifth act we may
