Ultima Thule/My Cathedral
SONNETS.
MY CATHEDRAL.
Like two cathedral towers these stately pinesUplift 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 sighs 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.