A wise wind surely could never have sown The seed of a birch tree upon stone. Some careless breeze must have wafted it to A thread of moss and a drop of dew That caught the seed in a cranny of rock. And now great stout roots interlock And the stone is broken, wedged apart By the roots that pierce to its very heart. What silent yielding; what desperate need As the stone gave way to the living seed! What love or hate, if such there may be In the long slow passion of stone and tree, In the shattered rock; in the stunted tree. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ANCIENT PROPHECY by PHILIP FRENEAU SIBERIA by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN OF A FAIR LADY PLAYING WITH A SNAKE by EDMUND WALLER THE UNPARDONABLE SIN by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON INTRUSION by MAXWELL BODENHEIM THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: A CHAIN TO WEAR by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |