Oh, mountain monarch, at whose feet I stand,—
Clouds to adorn thy brow, skies clasp thy hand,—
Nature divine, in harmony profound,
With peaceful presence hath begirt thee round.
And thou, majestic oak, from yon high place
Guard'st thou the earth, asleep in night's embrace,—
And from thy lofty summit, pouring down
Thy sheltering shade, her noonday glories crown?
Whate'er thy mission, mountain sentinel,
To my lone heart thou art a power and spell;
A lesson grave, of life, that teacheth me
To love the Hebrew figure of a tree.
Faithful and patient be my life as thine;
As strong to wrestle with the storms of time;
As deeply rooted in a soil of love;
As grandly rising to the heavens above.