The Rebellious Vine - Poem by Harold Monro
One day, the vine
That clomb on god’s own house
Cried, “I will not
And, ‘I will
will not grow,’
So God leaned out his head,
Then the vine
fluttered its leaves, and cried to all the winds:
‘Oh have I not permission from the Lord?
And may I not begin to cease to grow?’
But that wise God had pondered on the vine
Before he made it.
And all the while it laboured not to grow,
It grew; it grew;
And all the time God knew.
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