The poem
Pines against the sky, Pluming the purple hill; Pines . . . and I wonder why, Heart, you quicken and thrill? Wistful heart of a boy, Fill with a strange sweet joy, Lifting to Heaven nigh - Pines against the sky.
Palms against the sky, Failing the hot, hard blue; Stark on the beach I lie, Dreaming horizons new; Heart of my youth elate, Scorning a humdrum fate, Keyed to adventure high - Palms against the sky.
Oaks against the sky, Ramparts of leaves high-hurled, Staunch to stand and defy All the winds of the world; Stalwart and proud and free, Firing the man in me To try and again to try - Oaks against the sky.
Olives against the sky Of evening, limpidly bright; Tranquil and soft and shy, Dreaming in amber light; Breathing the peace of life, Ease after toil and strife . . . Hark to their silver sigh! Olives against the sky.
Cypresses glooming the sky, Stark at the end of the road; Failing and faint am I, Lief to be eased of my load; There where the stones peer white in the last of the silvery light, Quiet and cold I'll lie - Cypresses etching the sky.
Trees, trees against the sky - O I have loved them well! There are pleasures you cannot buy, Treasurers you cannot sell, And not the smallest of these Is the gift and glory of trees. . . . So I gaze and I know now why It is good to live - and to die. . . . Trees and the Infinite Sky.