| I ranted to the knave and fool, |
| But outgrew that school, |
| Would transform the part, |
| Fit audience found, but cannot rule |
| My fanatic1 heart. |
| I sought my betters: though in each |
| Fine manners, liberal speech, |
| Turn hatred into sport, |
| Nothing said or done can reach |
| My fanatic heart. |
| Out of Ireland have we come. |
| Great hatred, little room, |
| Maimed us at the start. |
| I carry from my mother’s womb |
| A fanatic heart. |
| August 28, 1931 |