EditorialHow many centuries of change and chance Those gnarled gray trunks have sentineled, calm and still, Above the pool where slanting sunbeams glance, And the grave heron wets his tawny bill! How many more will pass, with all they bear Of human toil, of str...
EditorialHow many centuries of change and chance Those gnarled gray trunks have sentineled, calm and still, Above the pool where slanting sunbeams glance, And the grave heron wets his tawny bill! How many more will pass, with all they bear Of human toil, of str...