XI
The mountain wall—a hand divine
Drew on the sky its perfect line—
Said to my soul, “Of this be sure,
Thy race shall die, but I endure.
XII
“And while I take the morning’s kiss
On my brows bathed in crimson bliss
Or listen to the eternal song
The seven great spheres in heaven prolong.
XIII
“While on my sides the cedar grows
Through summer’s suns and winter’s snows,
Or while I rock my piny crown,
Whose high tops draw the lightning down,
XIV
“So long as I in might endure
I watch man fading, swift and sure;
I smile, and whisper to my flowers,
Man dieth and the earth is ours—”