Made by their plumes and cones of gray.
'Mong the leafy pictures is a crown,
Bedecked with a brightly shining star,
By angel hands held out and down
From the western gate that stands ajar.
My crown is bright when the year is new,
Nor changes, when its frosts appear:
For the star still shines in its ground of blue,
And the pine tree lives when the rest are sere.
From the pine my thoughts ascend above