Reference > Quotations > Hoyt & Roberts, comps. > Hoyt’s New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations
Hoyt & Roberts, comps.  Hoyt’s New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations.  1922.
Pine (Pinus)
                Shaggy shade
Of desert-loving pine, whose emerald scalp
Nods to the storm.
        Byron—The Prophecy of Dante. Canto II. L. 63.
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines.
        Coleridge—Hymn Before Sunrise in the Vale of Chamouni.
’Twas on the inner bark, stripped from the pine,
  Our father pencilled this epistle rare;
Two blazing pine knots did his torches shine,
  Two braided pallets formed his desk and chair.
        Durfee—What-Cheer. Canto II.
As sunbeams stream through liberal space
And nothing jostle or displace,
So waved the pine-tree through my thought
And fanned the dreams it never brought.
        Emerson—Woodnotes. II.
Like two cathedral towers these stately pines
Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones;
The arch beneath them is not built with stones,
Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines,
And carved this graceful arabasque of vines;
No organ but the wind here sighs and moans,
No sepulchre conceals a martyr’s bones,
No marble bishop on his tomb reclines.
Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves,
Gives back a softened echo to thy tread!
Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds,
In leafy galleries beneath the eaves,
Are singing! listen, ere the sound be fled,
And learn there may be worship without words.
        Longfellow—Sonnets. My Cathedral.
Under the yaller pines I house,
  When sunshine makes ’em all sweet-scented,
An’ hear among their furry boughs
  The baskin’ west-wind purr contented.
        Lowell—The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. 10.
The pine is the mother of legends.
        Lowell—The Growth of a Legend.
To archèd walks of twilight groves,
And shadows brown that Sylvan loves,
Of pine.
        MiltonIl Penseroso. L. 133.
Here also grew the rougher rinded pine,
The great Argoan ship’s brave ornament.
        Spenser—Virgil’s Gnat. L. 209.
            Ancient Pines,
Ye bear no record of the years of man.
Spring is your sole historian.
        Bayard Taylor—The Pine Forest of Monterey.
                Stately Pines,
But few more years around the promontory
Your chant will meet the thunders of the sea.
        Bayard Taylor—The Pine Forest of Monterey.

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