A TRANSCENDENTAL RESPITE by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

MY CATHEDRAL

Like two cathedral towers these steely pines
Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones;
The arch beneath them is not built with stones,
Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines,
And carved this graceful arabesque of vines;
No organ but the wind here sights and moans,
No sepulchre conceals a martyr’s bones,
No marble bishop on his tomb reclines.
Enter! The pavement, carpeted with leaves,
Gives back a softened echo to thy tread!
Listen! The choir is singing; all the birds,
In leafy galleries beneath the eaves,
Are singing! Listen, ere the sound be fled,
And learn there may be worship without words.

I too am graced with neighboring pine and evergreen trees home to birds who fill the air with chirps and songs. I too can appreciate the comparison between the tree and a cathedral as a reverent testament to a watchful, loving God. And awe!