Appalachian Hymn
Of living green, this forest screen—
Its grandeur holds the mountain’s gaze.
Appalachia, vast the scene,
White-crowned peaks stand high—ablaze.
Through shadowed vales, the rivers wind,
Their silver tongues in whispers speak,
Of ages lost, of humankind,
Whose dwellings fade on every peak.
The hawk’s long cry, the pine trees creak,
The mists ascend where silence lies;
And in that hush, the spirit seeks
A voice from earth, both old and wise.
No marble hall nor temple spire
Could match this wild cathedral’s grace.
Its altar glows with morning’s fire,
Its incense drifts through time and space.
Here, hearts made still, the weary face
The truth that stone or creed confined—
That life, in every root’s embrace,
Renews the soul, restores the mind.
WoPoLi 
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