I See His Blood Upon The Rose

From the desk of Fr. Ignatius Waters, cp

Sunday, 20th March, 2016

Joseph Mary Plunkett  was an Irish nationalist, poet, journalist, and a leader of the 1916 Easter Rising. He was born at 26 Upper Fitzwilliam Street in one of Dublin’s most affluent neighborhoods. Both his parents came from wealthy backgrounds, and his father, George Noble Plunkett, had been made a papal count. Despite being born into a life of privilege, young Joe Plunkett did not have an easy childhood. He contracted tuberculosis at a young age. This was to be a lifelong burden. He spent part of his youth in the warmer climates of the Mediterranean and North Africa. He was educated at the Catholic University School  and by the Jesuits at Belvedere College in Dublin and later at Stonyhurst College, in Lancashire, where he acquired some military knowledge from the Officers’ Training Corps. Throughout his life, Joseph Plunkett took an active interest in Irish heritage and the Irish language.  The Plunkett family house in Kimmage was used as a clearing station for arms imported in 1914. On Good Friday 1916, Joseph, together with Padraic Pearse and Eamonn Ceannt came here to Mount Argus for confessions while the Seven Last Words were being preached. On Easter Monday, 1916, Captain George Plunkett, Joseph’s brother, waved down a tram with his revolver at Harold’s Cross and ordered on his volunteers armed with shotguns, pikes and homemade bombs. He then took out his wallet and said, “Fifty-two tuppenny tickets to the city centre, please!”    I loved Joseph M. Plunkett’s poem ‘I see his blood upon the rose’ long before I knew he lived so near Mount Argus and I like to think his proximity to Mount Argus at least partly inspired the writing of these beautiful lines:

I see his blood upon the rose

And in the stars the glory of his eyes,

His body gleams amid eternal snows,

His tears fall from the skies.

I see his face in every flower;

The thunder and the singing of the birds

Are but his voice—and carven by his power

Rocks are his written words.

All pathways by his feet are worn,

His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,

His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,

His cross is every tree.