:- let the whites do the talking

The Mountain to the Pine

by Clarence Hawkes

(picture taken in dec '05 europe - switzerland, jungfourjouh trip)

THOU tall, majestic monarch of the wood,
That standeth where no wild vines dare to creep,
Men call thee old, and say that thou hast stood
A century upon my rugged steep;
Yet unto me thy life is but a day,
When I recall the things that I have seen, ---
The forest monarchs that have passed away
Upon the spot where first I saw thy green;
For I am older than the age of man,
Or all the living things that crawl or creep,
Or birds or air, or creatures of the deep;
I was the first dim outline of God's plan:
Only the waters of the restless sea
And the infinite stars in heaven are old to me.


The poem was selected, as it aptly illustrates the snow-capped physical beauties of mother nature.