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The Rose Tree
| ‘O words are lightly spoken,’ | | Said Pearse to Connolly, | | ‘Maybe a breath of politic words | | Has withered our
Rose Tree; | | Or maybe but a wind that blows | | Across the bitter sea.’ | | | | | | ‘It needs to be but watered,’ | | James
Connolly replied, | | ‘To make the green come out again | | And spread on every side, | | And shake the blossom
from the bud | | To be the garden’s pride.’ | | | | | | ‘But where can we draw water,’ | | Said Pearse to Connolly, | | ‘When
all the wells are parched away? | | O plain as plain can be | | There’s nothing but our own red blood | | Can
make a right Rose Tree.’ |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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