Rooted they stand, but yet like pilgrim bands
That Heavenward raise their hands,
And, praying, climb a rocky mountain road,
So climb the pines up from the lower lands.
Tongueless? for those who hear upon the way,
Oh! with what zeal they pray!
Their voice a sweet, insistent, suppliant sigh,
As soft as zephyr's sound on summer's day.
