The Redwoods

Here, sown by the Creator's hand,
In serried ranks, the Redwoods stand;
No other clime is honered 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 splendor gone;
But these proud monarchs still live on.

So shall they live, when ends our day,
When our crude citadels decay;
For brief the years allotted man,
But infinite perennials' span.

This is their temple, vaulted high,
And here we pause with reverent eye,
With silent tounge and awe-struck soul;
For here we sense life's proper goal;

To be like these, straight, true, and fine,
To make out world like their's, a shrine,
Sink down, Oh, traveller, on your knees,
God stands before you in these trees.

~Joseph B. Strauss (Builder of the Golden Gate Bridge)