<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342168" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Young Rebel</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sun is setting behind the range,<br>his golden rays pour down<br>On a little figure, childish, strange,<br>Bending over a volume worn,<br>Whose green-clad cover, dusty and torn,<br>Bears a 'harp without a crown'.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The young eyes turn to the distant west,<br>Where the sunset colours glow,<br>And thoughts are thrilling the childish breast<br>Of gallant, valorous deeds long done,<br>Of glorious battles, fought and won<br>In the days of long ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His fancy peoples the lonely glen<br>With the ghosts of the vanished past,<br>Till he hears the tramp of armed men,<br>And O'Niall's plumed horsemen ridge<br>While the 'Red Hand' flutters in all its pride<br>Above them on the blast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And just where the road winds into the creek<br>Where the jasmine stars the shade,<br>With the soft wind kissing her blushful cheek,<br>Beautiful grey-eyed Dierdrie stands<br>Stretching to Naisi her snowy hands--<br>Half -welcoming, half- dismayed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The purple hues of the gully change<br>With the deepening shades of night,<br>And, far in a nook of the distant range<br>Is Michael Dwyer, of the Wicklow glen,<br>Holding his desperate stand again,<br>'Gainst the redcoat soldier's might.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The west wind rises across the creek,<br>And with it the crash of steel<br>Carries a flush to the listener's cheek—<br>'Tis only the crash of branches dry,<br>But in it he hears the battle-cry,<br>And the patriot's words of zeal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And martyred shades come thronging around,<br>To the roll-call of Liberty;<br>Louder their eager voices sound,<br>Till towering tree-tops and glowing sky,<br>Are echoing back the defiant cry----<br>'Michael answer for me!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The moon is rising above the creek,<br>The shining stars look down<br>On a little dreamer, whose pillowed cheek<br>Rests, in a volume worn,<br>Whose green-clad cover, dusty and torn,<br>Bears ' Harp without a Crown'.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alice+Guerin+Crist">Alice Guerin Crist</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342168" data-title="A Young Rebel de Alice Guerin Crist" data-description="The sun is setting behind the range, his golden rays pour down On a little figure, childish, strange, Bending over a volume worn, Whose green-clad cover, dusty and torn, Bears a 'harp without a crown'. The young eyes turn to the distant west, Whe..."></div> </div> </div>

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