ó Briain Prays at Dawn in London

(1847)

Cathedral bells announce another day
To haul the royal cohorts’ waste with drool
From dogs that scavenge it.

                            “Too meager pay
For daily bread of men who follow rule
Of law with Father, Son, & Holy Ghost,” he said.

But prayer had always tempered dread
For him to smile and know what mattered most:
That there she lay and reached for him in bed.

Amid the salvaged gunny sacks there swells
His member, mind, and soul when she bestows
Bare truth to taste where goddess Áine dwells.

ó Briain rhymes when others toil with prose.
He hears the chimes when others fear the toll,
And takes as sacred his heart with his Rose.