Poems by William W. Story | ||
[XXI. Like to the human frame, or like the spreading tree]
Like to the human frame, or like the spreading tree,
So History grows and has its live anatomy.
So History grows and has its live anatomy.
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From age to age it grows, here lopped, and stunted there,
And strives its perfect form of Liberty to wear.
And strives its perfect form of Liberty to wear.
Ah! what a wondrous voice of sorrow from it grieves,
As in the air of Time it shakes its myriad leaves.
As in the air of Time it shakes its myriad leaves.
There sits the carrion crow of Hate, and croaks for Death,
While Love's white dove lies torn and bleeding underneath.
While Love's white dove lies torn and bleeding underneath.
Shall that day never come when all its limbs shall shoot
In peaceful freedom forth to blossom, leaf and fruit.
In peaceful freedom forth to blossom, leaf and fruit.
When lifting perfect up its form unto the skies,
The winds amid its boughs shall weave their melodies.
The winds amid its boughs shall weave their melodies.
Poems by William W. Story | ||