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CHANCE-FALLEN SEED, by                    
First Line: A wise wind surely could never have sown
Last Line: In the shattered rock; in the stunted tree.


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.





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