Explore "Rhymes of the Survey and Frontier" by George Blackstone Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"The stone that rolleth ne'er shall find / The moss, no substance make," / Was written by the prophet old, / Who words of wisdom spake; / But, shadowed 'midst its shady bed, / The stone of mossy store / Is useless for the work of man, / And rotten to the core.
The moss the hoard, and man the stone -- / Methinks the semblance good, / And rolling stones shall find no moss, / Is wisdom understood; / But where the voice of Empire calls, / The moss is parched and dry, / And we are rolling on our way / Beneath a burning sky.