Like two cathedral towers these stately pines br Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones; br The arch beneath them is not built with stones, br Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines, br And carved this graceful arabesque of vines; br No organ but the wind here sighs and moans, br No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones. br No marble bishop on his tomb reclines. br Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves, br Gives back a softened echo to thy tread! br Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds, br In leafy galleries beneath the eaves, br Are singing! listen, ere the sound be fled, br And learn there may be worship with out words.