The fallen elm (4)
Thoust sheltered hypocrites in many a shower
That when in power would never shelter thee.
Thoust heard the knave supply his canting powers
With wrongs illusions when he wanted friends;
That bawled for shelter when he lived in showers
And when clouds vanished made thy shade amends
With axe at root he felled thee to the ground
And barked of freedom — O I hate that sound
(Time hears its visions speak – and age sublime
Hath made thee a disciple unto time)
It grows the cant terms of enslaving tools
To wrong another by the name of right
It grows a licence with oer bearing fools
To cheat plain honesty by force of might
Posted by Arborfield at 6:59 a.m.