The Unceasing Round

In centre of the canvas see this pine All stark in death, with arms in vain appeal For what it nevermore can taste or feel Of joys of earth or of the heavens divine.Straight as in life it stands, still bearing sign Of noble majesty and dauntless will; While at its base its elder brothers spill Their ashes where the grasses kiss and twine.A glorious redwood centuries have blessed Uptowers, while with bliss of life possessed The forest sings in grand, harmonious tone.And careless men pass by -- the children they Of other children death has made his own. And who like them shall strive and pass away.