28.10.2007, 10:58
THE PINE WOODS.
WE stand upon the moorish mountain side,
From age to age, a solemn company ;
There are no voices in our paths, but we
Hear the great whirlwinds roaring loud and wide ;
And like the sea-waves have our boughs replied
From the beginning, to their stormy glee :
The thunder rolls above us, and some tree
Smites with his bolt, yet doth the race abide
Answering all times ; but joyous, when the sun
Glints on the peaks that clouds no longer bear ;
And the young shoots to flourish have begun ;
And the quick seeds through the blue odorous air
From the expanding cones fall one by one ;
And silence as in temples dwelleth there.
WE stand upon the moorish mountain side,
From age to age, a solemn company ;
There are no voices in our paths, but we
Hear the great whirlwinds roaring loud and wide ;
And like the sea-waves have our boughs replied
From the beginning, to their stormy glee :
The thunder rolls above us, and some tree
Smites with his bolt, yet doth the race abide
Answering all times ; but joyous, when the sun
Glints on the peaks that clouds no longer bear ;
And the young shoots to flourish have begun ;
And the quick seeds through the blue odorous air
From the expanding cones fall one by one ;
And silence as in temples dwelleth there.