Ultima Thule

MY CATHEDRAL

Like two cathedral towers these stately pines
  Uplift 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 with out words.