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 perennial's 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.