Old men — as long as the tides, <br />Have gone on to ebb and flow. <br />They have foretold of a guide, <br />That dawn's road, however slow, <br />It would bring about the change, <br />Leading the sun's aimless rays, <br />To extend outwards the range, <br />Of freedom granted by the day. <br />And they'd always be humming; <br />‘The storm, she is a coming'. <br /> <br />Young men — as long as the tides, <br />Have always but rocked and waned, <br />They have fought in the night, tied, <br />To the dawn that frees the chained. <br />When liberty's sunrise shines, <br />Across the horizon's height. <br />This night's long peace is the sign. <br />Those winds arrive with the light. <br />So they will keep on humming; <br />‘The storm, she is a coming'.\n\nM.H. Fowler<br /><br />https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-storm-214/
