The Pine Tree - An 1843 Poetic Expression
By Alfred B. Street.
- Stern dweller of the mountain! with thy feet
- Grasping the crag, and lifting to the sky
- Thy haughty crest! stern warrior-king thy form
- Scarce deigns to shake, when e'en the mighty blast,
- Which the strong eagle fears to stern, swoops down
- And breaks upon thee. O'er the glimmering chasm
- As lean'st thou, with one giant limb outspread,
- Thy sceptre, and seamed armor on thy breast,
- What is more grand, more glorious than thee!
- The headlong torrent pitching at thy base
- Sends forth but vassal rumblings, when the storm
- Awakes thy thunder; and the puny woods
- Seem like bent saplings when thy towering shape
- Swings in its majesty. The lightning's dart
- Hath streaked, but not consumed thee; upward still,
- As the black chariot of the fiend o'er rolls,
- Upward still, warrior-king! thy crest doth point,
- And in sublime defiance dost thou fling
- Thy emerald robe from off thy wounded breast,
- For other blows to fall, fierce hissing forth
- Thy scorn as flies the tempest. On thy rock,
- Thy throne impregnable, thou hast not reigned
- During the lapse of ages, for a blast
- To break thee, or a lightning shaft to cleave
- Thy plumed head to the earth. The hurricane
- And showers of blazing levin-bolts alone
- Can hurl thee from thy post of centuries.
-
- Yet art thou gentle, monarch of the crag!
- When all is gentle round thee when the sky
- Is soft with summer, and the sunshine basks
- In love upon thy branches, bright-winged birds
- Flutter within they plumes, and make thee gay
- With their sweet songs; the downy pinioned breeze
- Soothes thee, until thou murmurest in a voice
- Of blandest music, that upon the ear
- Steals sad, but oh, how winning!
-
- As thy head
- Bears the wild tempest when the rains are launched
- In slanted phalanx, as when from the west
- The wind fans lightly, and the parted clouds
- Let the fresh sunshine lean thy branches drop
- Their spinklings on the blossom hung beneath,
- Till its blue eye is deeper in its blue,
- And floats its sweet breath sweeter; while the moss
- That plump and green o'er spreads they iron roots,
- Fringed delicate sandals, seems some trysting place,
- Where fairy shapes of gold and ebony
- Glance o'er in mazy dances. Winter stern,
- Howling through forests changed to skeletons
- At the first mimicking breath of Autumn, sent
- As the mere courier of his dread approach,
- Though hurling all his blasts, from thee recoils,
- His fury spent in vain : not one slight plume,
- No, not the tiniest fibre of thy sprays,
- Blanches of falls; but as thou stood at when earth
- Leaped living at the blue bird call of Spring,
- Unchanged wilt thou again her carol hail,
- And tell where passed her timid steps from prints
- Of violets and of cowslips.
-
- Let us mark,
- Proud pine! thou one of myriad instruments,
- Through which mysterious, solemn Nature breathes
- The music of her wisdom in our souls
- Oh, let us mark thy likeness in the world,
- The wondrous world of man. True Greatness towers
- A glorious monarch throned on craggy thought,
- Decked in its proud regalia. When the blast
- Of Fortune bursts, it bends not; o'er the herd
- It spreads its sceptered arm, and weaker souls
- Bow, when occasion wakes it energies
- In all their native glory. Earth's wild storms
- May sweep across it, and their lightnings touch
- its lifted crest; but haughtily it dates
- The scathing wrath, and casts its deepest scorn
- At the endeavor baffled. Glorious gifts
- Are not bestowed for every passing cloud
- Of life to lay them darkened in the dust.
-
- And it is gentle too, when gentle hearts
- Are round it; love for love it freely gives,
- And while it bears the storm upon its head,
- It yields a cherishing care to those that cling
- Unto it for protection. In life's change
- It changes not; but as it smiled in joy,
- So in the bleak waste of adversity
- It wears its 'customed look, and welcomes back
- The sunshine of renewed prosperity.
March 16, 1843. New York Daily Tribune 2(289): 4. From the Knickerbocker for March.