Michael Robartes and the Dancer/The Rose Tree
THE ROSE TREE“O words are lightly spoken”Said Pearse to Connolly,“Maybe a breath of politic wordsHas withered our Rose Tree;Or maybe but a wind that blowsAcross the bitter sea.”
“It needs to be but watered,”James Connolly replied,“To make the green come out againAnd spread on every side,And shake the blossom from the budTo 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 beThere’s nothing but our own red bloodCan make a right Rose Tree.”