THE REDWOODS Poem by Joseph B. Strauss Golden Gate Bridge Builder
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Here, sown by the Creator's hand,
In serried ranks, the Redwoods stand; No other clime is honored 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 tongue and awe-struck soul; For here we sense life's proper goal; To be like these, straight, true and fine, To make our world, like theirs, a shrine; Sink down, Oh, traveller, on your knees, God stands before you in these trees. Author, Joseph B. Strauss, Builder of the Golden Gate Bridge. (World's Largest) |
