<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=428651" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Menace</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, when the land is white as milk<br>With bloom that lets no leaf between,<br>When trees are clad in grass-green silk<br>And thrushes sing in a gold screen:<br>What is it ails Dark Rosaleen?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why is the banshee in the night<br>Crying for all the young men gone?<br>Now when the world with bloom is white,<br>When the good sun's warm on the stone,<br>Why does the Woman of Death make moan?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As one who is not comforted,<br>I heard in every lonely glen<br>Dark Rosaleen cry for her dead<br>And for her dying race of men.<br>Dark Rosaleen, take heart again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For, oh, there's God in His high place<br>And Patrick seated by His side<br>To judge with Him the Irish race;<br>And Columcille, Kieran and Bride<br>Shall not forget before God's Face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There's Mary of the Seven Swords,<br>Queen of the Gael -- oh, many a saint,<br>With Oliver Plunkett to look towards<br>The Mercy Seat, with praise and plaint,<br>For Rosaleen, ever the Lord's.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, weep no more, Dark Rosaleen!<br>Menace and terror pass you by.<br>Oh, loved beyond the sceptred queen,<br>Dark Rosaleen for whom men die!<br>And loved till death, Dark Rosaleen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Katharine+Tynan">Katharine Tynan</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=428651" data-title="Menace de Katharine Tynan" data-description="Oh, when the land is white as milk With bloom that lets no leaf between, When trees are clad in grass-green silk And thrushes sing in a gold screen: What is it ails Dark Rosaleen? Why is the banshee in the night Crying for all the young men gone?..."></div> </div> </div>

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