“Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, streams like the thunderstorm against the wind.”
-Byron

"...like unfolded flowers beneath the sea,

Like the man's thought dark in the infant's brain,

 Like aught that is which wraps what is to be,

Art's deathless dreams lay veiled by many a vein

Of Parian stone; and, yet a speechless child,

Verse murmured, and Philosophy did strain

Her lidless eyes for thee..."

 From Shelley's Ode to Liberty.