Century-wise on the mountain
Licked by the red tongue of war,
Seeing patterns in chaos,
Feeling the trembling of Atlas
And reading the prophecy of annihilation,
Waving its banners of immortality--
Constancy through change, its message
To a dying universe.
Consider the pine O man:
Its feet deep in virile loam,
Its forehead touching Heaven,
Its innumerable fingers
Tapping the air for sustenance,
Glorifying the Master-Mind of beauty.
Consider the pine, and let its challenge song
Drown out the siren croon of apathy
That would lull you to sleep
Lounging on its cushions of complacency
Until your ship of days enters the harbor of doom
From which there is no returning.
