Blazed white is the Easter Lilly, ye shall find no blemish on her, she bends gently with the calling breeze and of her thoughts, the soil still roars. <br />Only the very safe, it is, who may speak of wrong's and right's, the mighty sword of empires, cloak of death by day and night. <br />Shall I find you as a statue, remembered in the town, should I search and find your lonely grave, where they coldly cut you down. <br />Should I ask myself the questions, as I walk the sweet boreen, where I may pick the lilies white, where they grow so proud, serene? <br />Did they drag you off a stretcher and tie you to a chair, when the bullets ripped the heroes flesh, then his body in deathly sag, the lily let out her vengeance cry, as she held blood splattered flag. <br />Generations since have fought and died, like a barley field cut and threshed, but the empire brute carried on his ways in the dungeons of long kesh. <br />So I shall honour the lily proud, for the many years beyond, and I shall always answer their questions so, I am right and you are wrong.<br /><br />fergus michael joy condron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-easter-lilly/
