- This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
- Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
- Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
- Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
- Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
- Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.
- This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
- Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman?
- --(from Evangeline by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
Before its famed and sought after sunrise, where an orange sea of clouds is to be seen far BELOW the ecstatic observers, there are the STARS, millions of them, peering down on us who would come closer to them as we would to God--with awe and reverence.