et terra nostra dabit fructum suum.
In full parade, a second marching soldier –
Now up, now down, from head to chest, and left
To right across the scapula, from shoulder
To shoulder – signs the seal by spirit’s craft
A second day of Advent: falling out and feted
This Dublin distillate of lively liquid
From Marrowbone Lane is the golden mean
Conciliating holly’s red and green.
So malt and grain untouched by smoke can soothe a
Distinctive thirst – to infant bottle, once
And twice and thrice refined, this fractioned ounce
Announces itself uisce beatha –
And halting stands at ease, his sentry post
A watch before the empty crib of Christ.
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