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Andromeda, and Other Poems

A PARABLE FROM LIEBIG

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The church bells were ringing, the devil sat singing On the stump of a rotting old tree; ‘Oh faith it grows cold, and the creeds they grow old, And the world is nigh ready for me.’

The bells went on ringing, a spirit came singing, And smiled as he crumbled the tree; ‘Yon wood does but perish new seedlings to cherish, And the world is too live yet for thee.’

Eversley, 1848.

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