Irish poetry has lost the ready ear and the comforts of recognition. But we must go on. We must be true to our own minds.

What is really beautiful must always be true.

This above all; to thine own self be true.

Propaganda, to be effective, must be believed. To be believed, it must be credible. To be credible, it must be true.

In these days of our new materialistic Irish state, poetry will have a harder, less picturesque task. But the loss of Yeats and all that boundless activity, in a country where the mind is feared and avoided, leaves a silence which it is painful to contemplate.

We must show our Christian colors if we are to be true to Jesus Christ.