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XXIX. | XXIX. |
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LXV. |
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The bird and the bell, with other poems | ||
XXIX.
And never yet was growth, save when it brokeThe letter of the dead scholastic form.
The bark drops off, and leaves the expanding oak
To stretch his giant arms through sun and storm.
The idols that upon his breast lay warm
The sage throws down, and breaks their hallowed shrine,
And follows the great hand that points to light divine.
The bird and the bell, with other poems | ||