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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408863" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Man Who Raised Charlestown</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">They were hanging men in Buckland who would not cheer King George – <br>The parson from his pulpit and the blacksmith from his forge; <br>They were hanging men and brothers, and the stoutest heart was down, <br>When a quiet man from Buckland rode at dusk to raise Charlestown. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not a young man in his glory filled with patriotic fire, <br>Not an orator or soldier, or a known man in his shire; <br>He was just the Unexpected – one of Danger's Volunteers, <br>At a time for which he'd waited, all unheard of, many years. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Charlestown met in council, the quiet man to hear – <br>The town was large and wealthy, but the folks were filled with fear, <br>The fear of death and plunder; and none to lead had they, <br>And Self fought Patriotism as will always be the way. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The man turned to the people, and he spoke in anger then. <br>And crooked his finger here and there to those he marked as men. <br>And many gathered round him to see what they could do – <br>For men know men in danger, as they know the cowards too. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He chose his men and captains, and sent them here and there, <br>The arms and ammunition were gathered in the square; <br>While peaceful folk were praying or croaking, every one, <br>He was working with his blacksmiths at the carriage of a gun. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">While the Council sat on Sunday, and the church bells rang their peal, <br>The quiet man was mending a broken waggon wheel; <br>While they passed their resolutions on his doings (and the likes), <br>From a pile his men brought to him he was choosing poles for pikes. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">(They were hanging men in Buckland who would not cheer King George – <br>They were making pikes in Charlestown at every blacksmith's forge: <br>While the Council sat in session and the same old song they sang, <br>They heard the horsemen gallop out, and the blacksmiths' hammers clang.) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And a thrill went through the city ere the drums began to roll, <br>And the coward found his courage, and the drunkard found his soul. <br>So a thrill went through the city that would go through all the land, <br>For the quiet man from Buckland held men's hearts in his right hand. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he caught a Charlestown poet (there are many tell the tale), <br>And he took him by the collar when he'd filled him up with ale; <br>&quot;Now, then, write a song for Charlestown that shall lift her on her way, <br>For she's marching out to Buckland and to Death at break o' day.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he set the silenced women tearing sheet and shift and shirt <br>To make bandages and roll them for the men that would get hurt. <br>And he called out his musicians and he told them what to play: <br>&quot;For I want my men excited when they march at break o' day.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he set the women cooking – with a wood-and-water crew – <br>&quot;For I want no empty stomachs for the work we have to do.&quot; <br>Then he said to his new soldiers: &quot;Eat your fill while yet you may; <br>'Tis a heavy road to Buckland that we'll march at break o' day.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And a shout went through the city when the drums began to roll <br>(And the coward was a brave man and the beggar had a soul), <br>And the drunken Charlestown poet cared no more if he should hang, <br>For his song of &quot;Charlestown's Coming&quot; was the song the soldiers sang. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they cursed the King of England, and they shouted in their glee, <br>And they swore to drive the British and their friends into the sea; <br>But when they'd quite finished swearing, said their leader &quot;Let us pray, <br>For we march to Death and Freedom, and it's nearly dawn of day.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There were marching feet at daybreak, and close upon their heels <br>Came the scuffling tread of horses and the heavy crunch of wheels; <br>So they took the road to Buckland, with their scout out to take heed, <br>And a quiet man of fifty on a grey horse in the lead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was silence in the city, there was silence as of night – <br>Women in the ghostly daylight, kneeling, praying, deathly white, <br>As their mothers knelt before them, as their daughters knelt since then, <br>And as ours shall, in the future, kneel and pray for fighting men. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For their men had gone to battle, as our sons and grandsons too <br>Must go out, for Life and Freedom, as all nations have to do. <br>And the Charlestown women waited for the sounds that came too soon – <br>Though they listened, almost breathless, till the early afternoon. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then they heard the tones of danger for their husbands, sweethearts, sons, <br>And they stopped their ears in terror, crying, &quot;Oh, my God! The guns!&quot; <br>Then they strained their ears to listen through the church-bells' startled chime – <br>Far along the road to Buckland, Charlestown's guns were marking time. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;They advance!&quot; &quot;They halt!&quot; &quot;Retreating!&quot; &quot;They come back!&quot; The guns are done!&quot; <br>But the calmer spirits, listening, said: &quot;Our guns are going on.&quot; <br>And the friend and foe in Buckland felt two different kinds of thrills <br>When they heard the Charlestown cannon talking on the Buckland hills. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the quiet man of Buckland sent a message in that day, <br>And he gave the British soldiers just two hours to march away. <br>And they hang men there no longer, there is peace on land and wave; <br>On the sunny hills of Buckland there is many a quiet grave. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is peace upon the land, and there is friendship on the waves – <br>On the sunny hills of Buckland there are rows of quiet graves. <br>And an ancient man in Buckland may be seen in sunny hours, <br>Pottering round about his garden, and his kitchen stuff and flowers. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</a><div class=q>
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<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=408863" data-title="The Man Who Raised Charlestown de Henry Lawson" data-description="They were hanging men in Buckland who would not cheer King George – 
The parson from his pulpit and the blacksmith from his forge; 
They were hanging men and brothers, and the stoutest heart was down, 
When a quiet man from Buckland rode at dusk..."></div>
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