I sat and listened to the pines A-whispering in the breeze, And wondered at their eerie signs And marveled at their magic lines That shuffled to and fro with ease. I watched the dying sun, the lone And red clouds overhead, And listened to the pine trees moan In some sad mournful monotone That made me shrink in awe and dread. I sat and listened, wondered still, But never shall I know The secret of that strange and chill Song that the pines upon the hill Chant when the breezes blow. |