Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n: the seed, <br /> The little seed they laugh'd at in the dark, <br /> Has risen and cleft the soil, and grown a bulk <br /> Of spanless girth, that lays on every side <br /> A thousand arms and rushes to the Sun. <br /> Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n: they came; <br /> The leaves were wet with women's tears: they heard <br /> A noise of songs they would not understand: <br /> They mark'd it with the red cross to the fall, <br /> And would have strown it, and are fall'n themselves. <br /> <br /> Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n: they came, <br /> The woodmen with their axes: lo the tree! <br /> But we will make it faggots for the hearth, <br /> And shape it plank and beam for roof and floor, <br /> And boats and bridges for the use of men. <br /> <br /> Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n: they struck; <br /> With their own blows they hurt themselves, nor knew <br /> There dwelt an iron nature in the grain: <br /> The glittering axe was broken in their arms, <br /> Their arms were shatter'd to the shoulder blade. <br /> <br /> Our enemies have fall'n, but this shall grow <br /> A night of Summer from the heat, a breadth <br /> Of Autumn, dropping fruits of power; and roll'd <br /> With music in the growing breeze of Time, <br /> The tops shall strike from star to star, the fangs <br /> Shall move the stony bases of the world.<br /><br />Alfred Lord Tennyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-princess-a-medley-our-enemies-have-fall-n/
