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Thursday, October 11, 2012

Poem: My Cathedral


Like two cathedral towers these stately pines
    Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones;
    The arch beneath them is not built with stones,
    Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines,
And carved this graceful arabesque of vines;
    No organ but the wind here sighs and moans,
    No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones.
    No marble bishop on his tomb reclines.
Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves,
    Gives back a softened echo to thy tread!
    Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds,
In leafy galleries beneath the eaves,
    Are singing! listen, ere the sound be fled,
    And learn there may be worship with out words.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

4 comments:

  1. This poem could have been written about Rosary Lane at Manresa Jesuit Spiritual Renewal Centre near Toronto. This is a beautiful lane with pine trees bordering each side and at the end is Mary with Jesus. In my mind this pine tree lane is a cathedral built by nature in which to worship our Lord.

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    Replies
    1. It sounds like a place I want to visit at some point. I like stately pines and I like visiting retreat houses. A great combination.

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