THE CEDAR

I. Beneath the drapery of the skies, The ancient cedar makes her throne, With branches that touch high with sighs, In solitude forever alone.

II. For ages have come to caress, The beauty of her rugged bark, A crown of stars in her distress, The nightingale’s song turns hark.

III. Yet in the shadows cast by time, Within its roots the wisdom hums; “I bend not, for nature is prime, In me the seasons come!”

IV. So shelter me, dear cedar tall, With all the strength you’re blessed to gain, For none may kiss the sky so small, And touch the vastness of your reign!

• John Gibson Lockhart