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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Parable From Liebig</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The church bells were ringing, the devil sat singing<br>On the stump of a rotting old tree;<br>'Oh faith it grows cold, and the creeds they grow old,<br>And the world is nigh ready for me.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The bells went on ringing, a spirit came singing,<br>And smiled as he crumbled the tree;<br>'Yon wood does but perish new seedlings to cherish,<br>And the world is too live yet for thee.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Eversley, 1848.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Charles+Kingsley">Charles Kingsley</a></strong></div>

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