Stone statues view strangely the sights below
Copper dye melts around the hallowed heads
And drips down to form pools of green.
They sit upon the ancient stones
And watch the urgency far below.
Tram tracks now covered deep.
The old ways buried with layers of seasons past.
Dublin watches with her dons of old
Her Georgian facades hide songs of older times
She moves within her cast of sculptures; frozen.
Rusty steel arches stands proud and red above the fray
Placed over swirling Liffey, green. A path for trade and friends alike
They join her North and South.
Welcome lines hide ages in their grace.
Many crossed its spans for love or on the run.
Pillared columns stand haughty against the ages
They define the day. They fix the view.
The cut stone gates of Trinity.
The cobbled stones of streets of old.
Where iron shod feet once plied their trades.
Fanlights now illuminate the carpets thick.
In rooms where tailored suits and money meet.
The tea maids are gone. The scones are cold.
The silver set, now frozen behind the water glass.
Portraits watch with moldy eyes, from plastered walls.
Her structure hardened by shells of old.
Her nature, pure, for all to see.
Her ancient stones laid stately, by the Norse.
Her history still defines her course.
Denis Hearn 2002