I Saw Far Off The Dark Top Of A Pine Look Like A Cloud, A Slender Stem The Tie That Bound It To Its Native Earth, Poised High 'Mid Evening Hues, Along The Horizon Line, Striving In Peace Each Other To Outshine. But When I Learned The Tree Was Living There, Saved From The Sordid Axe By Beaumont'S Care, Oh, What A Gush Of Tenderness Was Mine! The Rescued Pine-Tree, With Its Sky So Bright And Cloud-Like Beauty, Rich In Thoughts Of Home, Death-Parted Friends, And Days Too Swift In Flight, Supplanted The Whole Majesty Of Rome (Then First Apparent From The Pincian Height) Crowned With St. Peter'S Everlasting Dome.