Like two cathedral towers these stately pines <br />Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones; <br />The arch beneath them is not built with stones, <br />Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines, <br />And carved this graceful arabesque of vines; <br />No organ but the wind here sighs and moans, <br />No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones. <br />No marble bishop on his tomb reclines. <br />Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves, <br />Gives back a softened echo to thy tread! <br />Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds, <br />In leafy galleries beneath the eaves, <br />Are singing! listen, ere the sound be fled, <br />And learn there may be worship with out words.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ultima-thule-my-cathedral/
