An outcry in the bush below, <br />A crash, and boughs that sway, <br />And shouts of laughter let me know <br />Where my two ruffians play. <br /> <br />Barelegged, bareheaded, brown and free, <br />They lurk and prowl and spring; <br />Like tiger-cubs they disagree, <br />Like honeysuckers sing. <br /> <br />For in their hearts are echoes yet <br />From ages when they knew <br />The caves of green they now forget, <br />Though there they climbed or flew. <br /> <br />No cage set limits to their pace; <br />They held the hunt at bay; <br />And in their careless mien I trace <br />The savage mood to-day. <br /> <br />They'll take no tidal drift, nor lie <br />And rot like souls of mud, <br />For sullen lip and flashing eye <br />Betray the rebel blood. <br /> <br />Go, flout the law your hearts disdain <br />Your foes are well arrayed <br />And take for guerdon love and pain, <br />And triumph unafraid. <br /> <br />In jungles where the night imparts <br />Her secret lore to you, <br />Lie still and listen to your hearts. <br />Be true, my sons, be true!<br /><br />John Le Gay Brereton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rebel-hearts/
