I left the house of the tempest brewing, Spinning like a rod, spun into flame And came upon the redwood forest, Eternal, shouting out heavens name.
The sun was indifferent, the creek shuffled Its lament, the birds fluted their dirge— I was so small, in the red giants grove, Yet, felt so beloved, my pain was purged.
And I warmly came to see again— My eyes, through the needles drove, What a trifling is ones fleeting mood, How true, heroic, immortal is my love.