MATTLi] THE SWISS MOUNTAIN PINE 5 



hiunan interest, which we would naturally associate with a tree, 

 which, from its lofty heights, has seen the coming and going of 

 generations of people ; for I cannot even imagine the pine without 

 at the same time thinking of the things that it must have witnessed, 

 just as I could not think of the Sph^mx vsnthout at the same time 

 imagining something of these nameless struggles and bloody battles 

 evidenced by countless bones, which must have been waged in the 

 surrounding plains of the desert. 



And so to me, the mountain pine suggests the pleasures and 

 struggles of the people in the valley below. And often did I sit 

 and look at it and wonder and wish to know that which it must 

 have seen. 



There are sayings current in our valley, (sa^-ings that are handed 

 down from generation to generation) that tell of strange and event- 

 ful things. Of a time in which the glaciers kept on creeping down- 

 ward upon the peaceful valley, steadily, year after year until they 

 reached the ven* edge of the green fields and people were filled with 

 awe and fear ; and these folks being of a God fearing and religious 

 nature gathered together, one fine stunmer morning, right at the 

 very base of that glacier, where a little clear brook issues from a 

 yellow granite wall, and there they prayed and prayed that the ice 

 masses that hung towering above their bowed heads, might 

 advance no further. And then they carv^ed their family signs into 

 that yellow granite wall. 



Now nobody knows what names they had nor what kind of 

 people they were but the mountaineer looks at this place with 

 reverence and the stranger who today passes that little brook by 

 the yellow wall, gazes at these hieroglyphic signs with a puzzled 

 and oirious expression. And there are savings cvurent also that 

 tell of a wild and terrible storm, that came in the silence of the 

 night and left the green valley a plain of desolation and barrenness. 



Yes, mountain pine, thou hast seen many wonderfiil things. 

 Thou hast watched the people in the valley below, their joys and 

 struggles. Thou hast seen generations of them come and genera- 

 tions go, and if I could write poetry, oh mountain pine, I would 

 write a poem about thee. I would endow thee with feeling and 

 weave thy life together with that of the people below. I would 

 reflect their cares in thy struggles and I would link their sad and 

 joyous moments with thy shadows and thy sunshine. 



Yes, Mountain pine if I could write poetry I would write a poem 

 about thee. 



