July 4th | Almost a Miracle
- Greg McNeilly
- Jul 4
- 3 min read
Hearken to this tale I spin, of struggle and glory,
An epoch of brave men and women, in our nation’s story.
From the Stamp Act’s harsh decree in 1765,
To the victory at Saratoga, where our hopes did thrive.
In the dawn of discord, the colonies did chafe,
From the yoke of British rule, they sought to be safe.
“No taxation without representation,” the cry did ring,
A whisper of rebellion, to tyranny a sting.
The Boston Massacre, a spark in the sable night,
In the hearts of Patriots, it ignited a fiery fight.
As the Coercive Acts closed the harbor, and the tea lay in the bay,
The Sons of Liberty knew, ’twas the dawn of a new day.
The First Continental Congress convened in ’74,
A united front ’gainst tyranny, they chose to explore.
In the spring of ’75, at Lexington and Concord,
The “shot heard round the world” for liberty did afford.
The siege of Boston followed, with cannons on Dorchester Heights,
A city held in a Patriot’s grip, under the cover of night.
Then in Philadelphia, a declaration was made,
An assertion of independence, a foundation was laid.
In the heat of July, in the year 1776,
The words of Thomas Jefferson, their resolve did fix.
“We hold these truths to be self-evident,” they did proclaim,
Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, in freedom’s name.
But the path to independence was fraught with perils untold,
Battles lost, the winter’s cold, yet their hearts grew bold.
From the defeat in New York, to the crossing of Delaware,
Victory at Trenton showed hope was not in despair.
As the year ’77 dawned, the struggle was far from won,
But in the hearts of the Patriots, a new fire had begun.
At Saratoga, a victory, the turning of the tide,
A message to the world: we won’t be denied.
In the winter at Valley Forge, where the cold did bite,
The Continental Army, held fast in freedom’s fight.
Though they hungered, froze, and suffered, their spirit never broke,
For they were steeled by liberty, ’neath freedom’s mighty oak.
The French alliance was secured, adding to our might.
With their aid, our forces strengthened, our resolve renewed,
The tide of war was turning, a changing attitude.
In the Southern colonies, the war raged fierce and long,
Despite defeats and hardships, the Patriots stood strong.
From Savannah to Charleston, the Redcoats claimed their hold,
But the spirit of resistance remained both fierce and bold.
In ’81, at Yorktown, the final battle roared,
Where Washington’s brave army, their full strength poured.
Cornwallis was surrounded, on land and by the sea,
He surrendered to the Patriots, proclaiming, “Thus it be.”
The tolling bells of victory rang loudly and most clear,
Proclaiming to the world that freedom had drawn near.
Yet two more years of bargaining, the peace to finally win,
In Paris, ’83, the treaty put to pen.
“By the dawn’s early light,” a nation stood free,
From blue misty mountains to the majestic and grand Atlantic sea.
This tale of courage and of hope, from ’77 to ’83,
An anthem for the brave, in the land of the free.
Thus ends this tale of struggle, of sacrifice and pain,
The birth of a new nation, from the Old World’s chain.
It was indeed “almost a miracle,” this path to liberty,
A testament to the spirit, independence earned in victory.
