Classic Poem

There sunken in deep woods they sang their song
And while they sang, the Kings of many lands
Strove to add land to land and field to field,
And earth was all a dust of driving bands;
And the Dutch broom and the British pennant strove
And the mad Swede sprawled out to smite the Pole
And the Czars and Sultans watched their aged rites
And never guessed a song could save a soul.