The Ballad of Mary Ivors

Girl with those melancholy eyes Captive now a hundred years or more Glancing, challenging we who pass by Gentle child, artless of a nations war Moments of calm in your Sabbath clothes yet no smile from a child of our land Against your will an image chose composed then by photographers hand Mary Ivers a woman standing so still Just a child under the gaze of all Not yet revealing the face of steadfasts will But awaiting battle scream and call Then to shiver on Mountjoys floor And from her cell, that wretched place Her crimes of passion already sworn She will not cower or hide her face