 | Sursum Corda |  |
82
UNDER A PINE-TREE.
Beneath the swaying pine-tree,
That the fitful wind goes through,
I gaze on the widening landscape,
That fades in far-off blue.
That the fitful wind goes through,
I gaze on the widening landscape,
That fades in far-off blue.
And like low music playing
Above in the organ-loft,
The wind in the pine-tree moving
Makes music strange and soft.
Above in the organ-loft,
The wind in the pine-tree moving
Makes music strange and soft.
Soft is the voice, but solemn;
And with a dream-like power
It sways all thoughts and fancies,
And hallows the brief hour.
And with a dream-like power
It sways all thoughts and fancies,
And hallows the brief hour.
83
For the trees have all their voices
Of light or earnest tone;
The aspen—elfin laughter,
The oak—a Titan's moan.
Of light or earnest tone;
The aspen—elfin laughter,
The oak—a Titan's moan.
But the pines have caught the message
Which the wind bears from the sea;
And its voice is the voice of ocean,
And its talk of Eternity.
Which the wind bears from the sea;
And its voice is the voice of ocean,
And its talk of Eternity.
| Sursum Corda | |