Wind blows and sea-wave ploughs.
I am not rock, I am not oak;
My roots are short and slight;
With foes more grave than wind or wave
It is my lot to fight.
'Gainst Time and Life I wage a strife—
My name is Vested Right!
And still I stand, all through the land,
With face for every foe;—
The Vestry's lord—its law my word—