The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1916-12-23
Then you do not regret your boys

"Then you do not regret your boys
sacrificed" l asked
"No Irish Mother who loves ireland
has any regrets" she said with spirit
MY sorrow Is that l did not see my
boy before he died.
Did the Government prevent your
seeing your SOM" I asked.
NO." she said, 1T was all a mis-
take when the military motor
drove up to the door at midnight, /
was in bed. A policeman stepped out
and told my daughters that we were
all wanted at the prison. Naturally
my daughters believed that we were
under arrest Their idea was to save
me from Imprisonment. They told the
officer that l was too weak to accom-
pany them so they went to the prison
without me-"
when my daughters returned, l
was awake" said Mrs. O'Hanrahan-
something kept me awake. My mind
was worried. had not seen Michael
since Easter Sunday morning or Henry
either. Henry went out first that
morning-Michael fingered behind him.
He stopped down and kissed me and
his face had a strange set look. I
didn't know l was seeing him for the
last time on earth. My daughter.
Marie, knew where he was going, but
she didn't tell me. She thought
wasn't strong enough to know the
truth. Later l heard the girls pass
my bedroom door and called them in.
asked them what kept them up so
late.
''They made some excuse and talked
and chartered as if nothing had hap
pened."
"Once I thought saw tears in Eily's
eyes," continued Mrs. O'Hanrahan,
"but concluded it was imagination.
feel asleep after that. The next morn
ing after breakfast, they told me all.
The aged wom@'s voice had sunk to
ia whisper. Suddenly her aspect
changed, eff had only known" she
cried. passionately, "that Michael sent
for me, would have risen from the
bed of death to go to him. To think
that I was asleep-asleep at dawn.
when they murdered him-my boy, the
bravest and best son a mother could
have. Oh, it is hard to forgive his
murderers," she cried. God will sure
ly punish England. Wasn't imprison-
ment enough for any of the brave men
who gave up all for love of this coun-
try" she demanded and her eyes
blazed.
The room we were seated in was
bright and CHEEKY. The sun was
streaming in through the windows.
On the table bright flowers were in a
glass dish. A canary was singing
wildly III a gilt cage between the win
dow curtains, its gay notes sounded
oddly out of place in contrast to the
little black clad figure with the pa
tient eyes and careworn face.
Il am glad Michael died for Ire
land" she continued-her voice was
calm now-"I won't be long until see
him. am praying to live until Henry
is freed, but ten years is a weary wait,
I'm afraid" the voice 'quavered off a
bit-''but Gods will be done. He knows
what is hest"
"They tell me my boys fought like
heroes" There was distinct note Of
pride in her voice. when they were
arrested they were taken to Richmond
Barracks. and detectives identified
them at once as leaders in the fight.
They were then sent to Kilmainham
Michael was given little time to pre-
pare for death. l am lonely now with
out my boys and it is breaking my
heart to know that Michael sent for
me and I failed him at the last. It's
killing me by inches" She looked
very frail as she said this-An-t-sean
Bean Bocht-the poor old woman. In
her brave grief she was a symbol of
Ireland-a symbol touchingly illus
trated by that clever writer. l.. M.
McCraith, in her exquisite poem
THE POOR OLD WOMAN.
What has she there-within her wide
cloak's fold
Wrapped warm-this woman of wide
wistful eyes,
Who watches for the dawn through
storm and cold,
With patience waiting for the mists
to rise?
What makes her patience power. her
suffering gain?
What makes her strong to shelter,
love and pray,
With head uplifted beneath driving
rain.
While weary for the coming break of
day?
What but the strong young child,
braveeyed and bold,
Won by her sufferings, fruit of love
and stress,