THE TINES.
Calm, unafraid they face the storm. The pines upon the hill. The winter cold, the summer warm, With an unadultered will; And winds may blow, And waters flow Or all the earth be still. Their years are centuries, their lives Span many years of men; And mortal fails or mortal thrives Or mortal fails again, But on the steep Their watch they keep O'er rock and rill and glen. Would we might stand, as stand the kings Upon the mountain side. Above the level-little things. Ambition, sorrow, pride; Would we were these. The giant trees. Whose souls have never died. God give me strength to be a pine And not to be a weed. To lift my head and give no sign However I may bleed — To face the years To hide the tears To be a pine indeed. —Douglas Malloch.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/THD19300426.2.70.2
Bibliographic details
Timaru Herald, Volume CXXV, Issue 18552, 26 April 1930, Page 14 (Supplement)
Word Count
143THE TINES. Timaru Herald, Volume CXXV, Issue 18552, 26 April 1930, Page 14 (Supplement)
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