Trees, and Other Poems

Mount Houvenkopf

     Serene he stands, with mist serenely crowned,
      And draws a cloak of trees about his breast.
      The thunder roars but cannot break his rest
     And from his rugged face the tempests bound.
     He does not heed the angry lightning's wound,
      The raging blizzard is his harmless guest,
      And human life is but a passing jest
     To him who sees Time spin the years around.

     But fragile souls, in skyey reaches find
      High vantage-points and view him from afar.
     How low he seems to the ascended mind,
      How brief he seems where all things endless are;
     This little playmate of the mighty wind
      This young companion of an ancient star.