Celtic Legend by Eliza Witte - HTML preview
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Irish
I dream about things never been.
I see green clover every day
And ask, “Why not?” to all my dreams: Happy pebbles on my way.
Despising war, a warrior
I became because I live.
My path, my glorious chariot, And my sword, and my belief.
My shield of gold my song will sing.
And freedom I will taste… and then I’ll close my eyes for peace will bring An angel’s wing above my land.
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