Henry Wadsworth Longfellow — My Cathedral

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