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Subject Index A-B

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Subject Index C-F

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Subject Index G-K

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Subject Index L-O

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Subject Index P-Z

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![]() Email: info@searcs-web.com Joseph Plunkett, a descendant of Oliver Plunkett, was born in Dublin and educated at Belvedere College, Stonyhurst and University College, Dublin. After graduation Plunkett toured Italy and Egypt before becoming a journalist in Dublin where, in 1911, he co-founded The Irish Review with Thomas MacDonagh, Padraig Colum and David Houston. In the same year Plunkett joined the Irish Volunteers and published a collection of poems The Circle and The Sword. In 1914 Plunkett, Edward Martyn and Thomas McDonagh founded the Irish Theatre for the production of 'Irish plays' in opposition to the pseudo-peasant plays produced by the Abbey Theatre. In 1915 Plunkett, Director of IRB operations, went to Berlin with Roger Casement to procure armaments for the 1916 Rising. Later that year he travelled to America to report to Clan na Gael who had funded the purchase of armaments. Plunkett was a Signatory of the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic and carried a sword belonging to Robert Emmet into the GPO where he fought until the surrender. Plunkett was imprisoned in Kilmainham Gaol where he married Grace Gifford on the eve of his execution on May 4th, 1916. Plunkett's Complete Poems were published posthumously in 1916.© |
![]() Joseph Plunkett (1887-1916) |
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Of the sword that is dazzlingly white, Of the sword that is forged of a flame, Who has the sight? Lo! to my vision it came, I have seen it drawn forth from the sheath Wherein it was veiled, From its ruddy-white jewel-set sheath, While the lightirings through midnight it trailed As it flashingly spanned The night's darkness, to darkness were nigher - I have seen it drawn forth by the hand Of one who with fire Was burning crimson: Who raised It, and striking the bitterest rock, It suddenly blazed At the stroke of the sword - with the shock The rock of all bitterness broke, It melted and rolled To a cloud at the shattering stroke, Thawed to a cloud mist of gold Whose sudden ascent With such fragrance no brightness could brook It troubled the ways as it went, The circle it shook. © Searc's Web Guide 1997-2007 |
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