The 'Ere It Went of Isabella Slone Gregory De Feo In "An Gorta Mor" Ther'd been no mein O'precious thought, 'Neath poor Eire its land's spent frost And sun on high made glint its cost: One mere eye, pluck'd, And it tossed Nor view our sin "In! Thru the moss! Chance we whole to Heaven's bliss; 'Tis one eye we much not miss."

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