10/08/2007
The Redwoods
A poem about the Redwoods in Muir Woods San Francisco
Here, sown by the Creator's hand, In serried ranks, the Redwoods stand; No other clime is honoured so. No other lands their glory know, The greatest of Earth's living forms, Tall conquerors that laugh at storms; Their challenge still unanswered rings, Through fifty centuries of kings.
The nations that with them were young, Rich empires, with their forts far-flung, Lie buried now-their splendour gone; But these proud monarchs still live on, So shall they live, where ends our day, When our crude citadels decay; For brief the years allotted man, But infinite perennials span.
That is their temple, vaulted high, And here we pause with reverent eye, With silent tongue and awe-struck soul, For here we sense life’s proper goal; To be like these, straight, true and fine, To make our world, like theirs a shrine; Sink down, Oh traveller, on your knees, God stands before you in these trees.
by Joseph Strauss
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