PS 3545 
 .1322 
 F6 
 1922 
 Copy 1 
 
 W(^t¥mi^xm0 
 
 a:uj 
 
 (§tkn WmtmB 
 
 A' 
 
Q'tie Fortu-'Niners 
 
 and J 
 
 Other Rhi^mes 
 
 Some slants on suhjecls 
 old and new wiihoul "Soarings 
 In the Hiqh Reason of Fancy." 
 
 ^) 
 
 ^NSON 5RAZEE IDILCOX 
 
 Poelrv is music in words: and music is poelrv in sound. 
 
 1 J ^Fuller 
 
 ^11 are archilecls of fate. 
 Working in Ihese halls of lime; 
 Some with massive deed and great, 
 Some with ornaments of rhume. 
 
 J ^H. IP. Lonqfelloip 
 
 If 1 can lend 
 
 uA strong hand to the fallen, or defend 
 
 Qhe right against a single envious strain, 
 
 Mv life, though hare 
 
 Of much that seemeth dear and fair 
 
 Qb us on earth, will not have been in vain. 
 
 — Helen Hunt Jackson 
 
 Oranqe Boiper, California 
 
 llUoDia 8uu BcgiEUr, SprlugfU^d. 
 

 Copyright by 
 ANSON BRAZEE WILCOX 
 
 1922 
 
 1CU698207 
 
 Y>f^^^ 
 
Respectfully Dedicated 
 
 to 
 
 Mr. and JTlrs. Raymond Ji. Leonard. 
 
 won 
 
To the Reader 
 
 Every book of whatever importance has a purpose 
 and this one has several. It is the sincere hope that it 
 will help to make the real California better known and 
 induce those of far greater ability to lay aside their 
 fears and endure whatever must be endured to give 
 their part of our state a higher place on the poetic map. 
 
 The fate of Lavinsky, Redman and others, who quit 
 life because they could no longer endure the persecution 
 directed against them, has had its elfect. It is natural 
 to follow the lines of least resistance, particularly when 
 to do otherwise may mean what it has meant. But the 
 Avriter has felt it as a call to duty to do the little he 
 could do to help those who are so valiantly striving to 
 loosen the strangle hold of the lethal forces which are 
 keeping a large part of our state from its rightful place 
 in the line of progress; forces which would still hold it 
 to the level of primitive days. 
 
 Another aim is explained by the sub-title. It is be- 
 lieved that the rhymes are understandable by all who 
 understand the English language. Those who are look- 
 ing for effusions which expatiate on the nebulosity of 
 the imponderable will have to look elsewhere. 
 
 The little book was primarily meant for those en- 
 couraging friends who knew of the difficulties under 
 which much of it was composed. It is now passed along 
 to other friends of a wider circle with the hope that 
 they may find it not unworthy of our sunny State. There 
 is the further hope that the popular vein, appearing 
 now and then, will not detract from sincerity but that 
 the reader will find an hour's profit as well as pleasure 
 in perusing its pages. 
 
 A. B. W. 
 
INDEX 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Glad Old World 71 
 
 A Glimpse 26 
 
 At Cypress Point 39 
 
 At Panama 82 
 
 At Yosemite 99 
 
 A Wayside Pine 18 
 
 By the Feather 96 
 
 Duty — Trust — Honor 86 
 
 Evening on the Ranch 62 
 
 Fair Play 89 
 
 Finding Life's Gold 47 
 
 Honey-Thoughts 40 
 
 Hate Still Abides 63 
 
 He Called Them Good 22 
 
 Her Love Notes 77 
 
 He Smiled Good Morning 92 
 
 His Deed 70 
 
 Industry vs. Display 68 
 
 Inspired to Duty 98 
 
 In The Rice Fields 10 
 
 Intolerance of the Sea 54 
 
 Jack Cracker 72 
 
 Joaquin Miller 66 
 
 John Burroughs 21 
 
 Leontion 79 
 
 Longing 67 
 
 Lovers 95 
 
 Masters 18 
 
 My California State 38 
 
 My Dog 87 
 
 My Orange Bower 8 
 
 Night's Mystery 88 
 
 Now Courage Heart 32 
 
 Ode to Motherhood 90 
 
 0-fu-ku 19 
 
 Old Ben 30 
 
 Old Ocean 26 
 
 Omar 65 
 
 On Tamalpais 58 
 
 Orange Picking 13 
 
 Our Brother 69 
 
 Our Love Shall Live 50 
 
 Peary 35 
 
 5 
 
PAGE 
 
 Preferred 16 
 
 Progress 75 
 
 Return, Return 94 
 
 Sea Rocks 51 
 
 Self's Domain 93 
 
 Service 84 
 
 Smile On 76 
 
 Song 24 
 
 Star Dust 74 
 
 Star Token 53 
 
 Sweet Madness 52 
 
 Thaddeus Kearns 46 
 
 That Spot Is Home 30 
 
 The Aftermath 37 
 
 The Call of the Road 60 
 
 The Chain of Silence 49 
 
 The Fiddler 64 
 
 The Flight 44 
 
 The Forty-Niners 7 
 
 The Hills That Charm 23 
 
 The Land of the Contented Heart 85 
 
 The Living may not be Living, tlie Dead may not be Dead 56 
 
 The Mountain Rover 15 
 
 The Mystery 11 
 
 Theodore 59 
 
 The Old Ship Speaks 28 
 
 The Orange Tree 25 
 
 The Orange Tree Speaks 34 
 
 The Pine-Wind Song 17 
 
 The Poor American 42 
 
 The Pungent Buckthorn 13 
 
 There Are Nobler Things 45 
 
 The River's Torrent 44 
 
 The Song 12 
 
 The Teacher 20 
 
 They See the King 80 
 
 Thy Work is Thy Reward 81 
 
 To A Sea Gull 31 
 
 Tolstoy's Regret 53 
 
 To Mister George Sterling 48 
 
 Voyages 27 
 
 Waiting 32 
 
 Washington 78 
 
 Waves 41 
 
 What Mountains Tell 97 
 
 Whispers 36 
 
*THE FORTY-NINERS 
 
 Lest Memory should close her page 
 
 On days when gold held all the stage; 
 
 When the round world with single eye 
 
 Turned California-ward to try 
 
 Its luck; where fortunes could be won 
 
 'Tween glowing dawn and setting sun, 
 
 Or if not quite so swift as this, 
 
 The gold was here one could not miss — 
 
 I would record a line or two 
 
 Of deeds which should be kept in view. 
 
 Here by these streams and o'er these hills 
 They strode and toiled with sturdy wills, 
 These giants in a purpose strong, 
 These heroes with a conquering song; 
 They met the challenge of great souls 
 Of heat and drought, of storm and flood. 
 Of blistering trails, of swamping mud. 
 Of hunger, cold and roofless nights. 
 Yet paused not at such costly tolls. 
 
 Stern Nature seems to frown and wait 
 
 To yield her secrets to the great. 
 
 And here reluctant she gave way 
 
 To hearts of oak she could not stay; 
 
 Here in the struggle for his goal 
 
 Each bared the gold of a rugged soul; 
 
 Together they the Savage fought. 
 
 Together beast and bandit caught. 
 
 Renewed the fires of ancestral fame 
 
 To meet all dangers as they came; 
 
 If rough their games and songs and jokes, 
 
 They hid the heart-ache for the homeland folks. 
 
And in this struggle in a land unknown, 
 
 Where death marked the card that called his own — 
 
 For here and there 'neatli the yew and pine, 
 
 Where the striving winds through the chap'ral whine. 
 
 On many a lonely star-domed hill, 
 
 Lies all that is left of a heart long still — 
 
 What was, through all this hardship, won? 
 
 Was it the gold and the gold alone? 
 
 They won an empire which by God's grace 
 
 Shall live while liberty holds its place, 
 
 And proved that man's unfettered will 
 
 Cannot be conquered, will conquer still. 
 
 *(Note: This poem was first published in the Sac- 
 ramento Union, May 26, 1922, when two hundred thou- 
 sand people attended The Days of Forty-Nine Cele- 
 bration.) 
 
 MY ORANGE BOWER 
 
 Fair is the spot where flows the stream of song. 
 Where Po-e-sy inspires a stam'ring tongue. 
 Where all the ambient airs in cadence breathe 
 And tuneful strains Time's gentle liours enwreath. 
 
 Nowhere beyond are skies so fair and blue. 
 None gemmed so full of smiles, the clouds so few; 
 And here I've found my Isle — Isle of the Blest, 
 Led by my star to end a happy quest. 
 
 Here bud and fruit the embowering orange trees — 
 The once famed apples of the Hesperides; 
 Small wonder Juno chose such wedding gift. 
 And Hesper's daughters kept from loss or theft. 
 
 The fragrance which sweet-scents this golden bower. 
 Not Irem had nor Yemen's dulcet flower; 
 It soothes dull care and woos till downy ease 
 Becomes a fond luxurious disease. 
 
The bee strums strophes of melody and sips 
 Hymettan dew from blossoms' nectared lips; 
 The thronging songsters greet me as a guest 
 While building in the magic of a nest. 
 
 A fountain near diffuses summer's rays 
 And greens the grass with limpid circling sprays, 
 When fields are brown and all the mountain side, 
 And hazed the peaks where beats the ocean tide. 
 
 Here one may muse in spirit and discard 
 The fleshly link which binds to earth so hard, 
 And feel the beauties which heaven brings anear 
 For high enjoyment for all with soul to hear. 
 
 Not Homer here could trump of war and flame, 
 Nor Horace the Falernian cup acclaim; 
 No journey could great Chaucer lure away, 
 Nor Milton's fancy have greater chance for play. 
 
 Ne'er did I find in that far tropic zone* 
 The thermal balm I here may call my own; 
 The dawn's more fair, the day's reluctant close 
 Waves gorgeous banners to wish me sweet repose. 
 
 Here I may revel as one born out of time — 
 
 My harp but single-stringed yet strum its rhyme — 
 
 May glimpse the mighty who've graced the world of 
 
 song, 
 A follower afar yet humbly to belong. 
 
 ^The author spent a year in South America. 
 
IN THE RICE FIELDS 
 
 Gay is tlie morning, Rice Fields, 
 
 Gay with tlie glow of green and yellow 
 Of your changing moire in the snnlight. 
 
 Filtered through sea-born clouds, soft and mellow. 
 
 The fragrance which thurifies the breeze, 
 Across your gold-laden ears of treasure, 
 
 Is sweet to the husbandman and sweet 
 
 To me who feasts e'en now on coming pleasure. 
 
 Along your water-ways the wild fowl 
 
 Revel noisily or, lazily napping, 
 Pleed no more the call of the icy vasts 
 
 Nor join the goose-wedge through clouds sky- 
 wrapping. 
 
 Soon the reapers will nibble at your edges. 
 
 Will unravel your web of rare beauty, 
 Leaving the skeins in tangled heaps 
 
 But foraging your wealtli^ — no richer booty. 
 
 Let me romp in you as in the tall grass 
 
 And lave in you and feel your touch caressing; 
 
 Let me dream of you and the infinitude of stars 
 While the frets and skeins of life go evanescing. 
 
 Let me thrill anew in the Infinite Wisdom, 
 
 The fiatic mystery of time unbending; 
 The seed, the harvest; birth and rebirth of man and star. 
 
 In days or aeons forever onward wending. 
 
 10 
 
THE MYSTERY 
 
 By the river's flow'iy brink, 
 Come with me at eariy dawn; 
 
 We will sit beneath the willow, 
 
 Or with pine bonghs for a pillow. 
 Rest serene on grassy lawn, 
 
 While the river's calm we drink. 
 
 Come when songsters, glad of life. 
 Throat their sweetest roundelay; 
 
 Or with gleeful wings the water 
 
 Dash to spray 'mid birdish laughter, 
 E're the palpitating day 
 
 Ushers in its round of strife. 
 
 We will watch the silver tide. 
 Rippling* music on its way; 
 
 Singing still its gladsome story, 
 
 On and on since ages hoary. 
 Giving of itself each day, 
 
 Loving service far and wide. 
 
 While we listen to the strain, 
 We the mystery shall know : 
 
 Why it is that constant duty 
 
 Changes sordidness to beauty ; — 
 Chilling ice and freezing snow 
 
 Thus become the balmy rain. 
 
 Then when comes the toilsome day. 
 Burdened with its v/eight of care. 
 
 We shall fear its toils no longer, 
 
 Faith renewed and courage stronger, 
 Gladly we will fardels bear. 
 
 Spreading cheer along the way. 
 
 11 
 
THE SONG 
 
 Sometimes the orange bower fails — 
 
 Inspires no song; 
 And closed are all the Pindus trails 
 
 With thoughts that throng; 
 The arrow, that would reach the height, 
 Lacks centered impulse for the flight, 
 As many bows add not in might, 
 
 Nor flight prolong. 
 
 Or many strings are to the bow, 
 
 No shaft will suit; 
 No song to-day, nor high nor low. 
 
 The pen lies mute; 
 Then comes the katydid to sing, 
 With iDride he strums his single string. 
 To cheer the heart of everything 
 
 He's resolute. 
 
 He glories in his helpful art. 
 
 His note but one; 
 Of all earth's choirs he's apart 
 
 With Mendelssohn ; 
 'Tis not the many notes that sway. 
 Nor send the message on its way; 
 So there will be a song today 
 
 E'er set of sun; 
 
 A song that may in humble guise 
 
 Some courage bring ; 
 Some note of brighter, fairer skies. 
 
 With joys awing; 
 Though simple be the lay and plain, 
 It will not have been sung in vain 
 If 'twill inspire some heart again 
 
 In hope to sing. 
 
 12 
 
THE PUNGENT BUCKTHORN 
 
 When Lady Mcarcli with velvet key 
 Has ope'd and set Earth's jewels free; 
 How pungent is the buckthorn's bloom! 
 To hold it all there scarce seems room. 
 
 The manzanita vainly tries 
 To spread its pearly chalices, 
 To add if may be fragrant worth 
 To all the vernal joys of earth. 
 
 Likewise the scented heliotrope 
 Would lend its aid with buoyant hope; 
 But of their wish they'll catch no gleam- 
 The pungent buckthorn reigns supreme. 
 
 ORANGE PICKING 
 
 When autumn winds from heated ways 
 
 Sport with the rolling tumble weed; 
 And goldenrod from starry rays 
 
 Lets fall to earth its ripened seed; 
 There comes a day all days among 
 
 That turns life's prose to leaping rhyme; 
 It brings a shout from old and young 
 
 When round comes orange picking time. 
 
 The wagons move with lively pace, 
 
 The youngsters romp and dance with glee. 
 And all with knapsacks strapped in place 
 
 Go through the orchard, tree to tree; 
 They climb among the bronze green leaves 
 
 To pluck the luscious golden globes, 
 A gold some fairy interweaves. 
 
 For never queen wore richer robes, 
 
 13 
 
And when the sacks are brimming o'er, 
 
 They bear them down and boxes fill; 
 Then up again and pick some more, 
 
 For there are oceans of them still; 
 Tom eager calls to Sister Rhe, 
 
 For he has found some extra sweet. 
 He shares with her and both agree 
 
 There is no finer fruit to eat. 
 
 With care they fill the wagon bed, 
 
 Then all the children climb aboard; 
 They drive off to the packing shed 
 
 And there unload their precious hoard. 
 A merry crew — an orange bee — 
 
 Wraps each with softest paper round, 
 Packs boxes ready for some tree 
 
 Wherever Christmas trees are found. 
 
 When evening comes, they play at games, 
 
 One hears the banjo, tambourine; 
 Song follows song and each proclaims 
 
 The orange as the reigning queen. 
 Though other seasons have their joys, 
 
 And some would praise with noisy drums. 
 None suits so well the girls and boys 
 
 As this, when orange picking comes. 
 
 14 
 
THE MOUNTAIN ROVER 
 
 I am roving the Sierras 
 
 Through and througli; 
 Peak on peak in joy ascending, 
 
 View on view; 
 Climb where some aspiring dome 
 For the stars wouhl make a home 
 So no longer they need roam 
 • As they do. 
 
 Canons here and there low falling, 
 
 Deep on deep; 
 Cliffs so sheer the eye appalling. 
 
 Steep on steep; 
 Where the world has set its rafter, 
 Let the voice but ring with laughter — 
 Peaks will join in ever after 
 
 Till they sleep. 
 
 There's a maid* that's worth pursuing, 
 
 Coy this maid; 
 None so faint but would be wooing, 
 
 Shine or shade; 
 When her voice is heard a-rippling, 
 Thirsty souls just take to tippling. 
 Precious everv drop and drippling — 
 
 Earth's ''First Aid." 
 
 Comes the day to glorious ending; 
 
 Sun and sea 
 Kiss while blushing clouds are sending 
 
 Love to me; 
 Coffee fragrant, trout a-frying, 
 Then on blankets spread I'm lying. 
 Rest comes sweet, there's no denying, 
 
 Sweet and free. 
 
 Then Dawn's pollen, eyes a-filling. 
 
 Rubbed away; 
 Eerie joys the soul a-thrilling. 
 
 Come what may; 
 
 15 
 
*' Onward" trumps the call of morning, 
 With new life the sun's adorning, 
 Toil and care forever scorning. 
 Vast the day. 
 
 In my veins the peaks are bounding, 
 
 Part of me; 
 Bird and tree and cliff resounding. 
 
 Harmony ; 
 Freedom's drumbeats here are playing. 
 Here God hears and answers praying, 
 Here my heart would e're be staying, 
 
 Mountain free. 
 *Water. 
 
 PREFERRED 
 
 I heard their boast far out at sea, 
 
 Those mighty towers of flame-lit steel; 
 
 And when I climbed them verily 
 It made my throbbing senses reel. 
 
 And bridges too of strength and flight, 
 Aladdin's lamp could not such wing, 
 
 Nor poise at such a thrilling height, 
 Sang their importance towering. 
 
 Huge dreadnaughts glowed and proud machines 
 That dived the deep or winged the air. 
 
 Bit holes through mountains, hid ravines 
 And tasks the old gods did not dare. 
 
 These and their cousins were so great — 
 The miracles of man's Invention — 
 
 No rivals might their fame abate. 
 
 There could be none worthy of mention. 
 
 Then Love's soft laughter modestly 
 
 Drew near, came through my cottage gate; 
 
 Ah, then I cried, "Just stay with me, 
 Let all man's great inventions wait." 
 
 16 
 
THE PINE-WIND SONG 
 
 There is no song like the pine-wind sings 
 
 The sky-domed mountain tops along; 
 There is no fragrance like it brings 
 
 To ease the pulses' throb and throng; 
 Here all my trails it knows by heart, 
 
 Here all my wanderings come to rest, 
 And I forget the street and mart 
 
 When of the pine-wind I'm a guest. 
 
 Here feeds the red deer, nose to wind, 
 
 And here I too the red deer am, 
 As free from fetters that would bind. 
 
 As free to feel the pine-wind balm; 
 Its fragrance deepens as it trips 
 
 Across my bare and fevered brow. 
 Soft as the touch of maiden's 'lips, 
 
 Sweet as the lisp of maiden's vow. 
 
 The age-old secrets that it brings 
 
 Of desert, sea and icy vast. 
 E'er it 'gan here its whisperings. 
 
 All o'er me a deep thralldom cast; 
 For it has winged e'er Time began, 
 
 'Twill onward wing when Time's forgot; 
 Its song is Lethe's artisan 
 
 Till I'm the pine-wind in this spot. 
 
 17 
 
A WAYSIDE PINE 
 
 How dear that tree, that wayside pine, 
 Whose branches wide like banners spread; 
 
 AVhence bird-songs bnrst with notes divine, 
 That ronnd me hope and conrage shed. 
 
 To all aronnd it was a friend — 
 To traveler wearied on the way 
 
 And plowboy, at the fnrrow's end, 
 Fonnd shelter from the snn's hot ray. 
 
 But best of all this trnth it told: 
 
 Who wonld life's ills to joys transform, 
 Must stand like worthy knight of old, 
 
 'Mid hnrtling thrnst and thrash of storm. 
 
 And now 'tis gone, that grand old tree, 
 
 A rnthless axman laid it low; 
 No more 'twill wave its cheer to me — 
 
 Help me to bear the storms that blow. 
 
 MASTERS 
 
 Said great Anrelins, sage of old: 
 
 ^'Yonr happiness depends. 
 Upon the kind and character, 
 
 Of thonghts that shape your ends." 
 
 Oh, wonld this sage rise from his dust, 
 And borrow Gabriel's horn; 
 
 To wake us from our own dead selves. 
 Since Fate rules night and morn! 
 
 'Twould take a mighty blast, but then. 
 
 We would be gainers still 
 To know they're Masters who depend 
 
 On thoughts and force of will. 
 
 18 
 
0-FU-KU 
 
 O-fu-ku, 0-fu-kii, 
 
 Ah, how I do envy yon! 
 
 More than emperor his throne, 
 
 Or great Bndda carved in stone; 
 
 More than prince in splendor's rank, 
 
 Or Chosh-n who owns the bank; 
 
 More than Shognn's master word, 
 
 Of great Knbhii with his sword; 
 
 0-fn-kn, 0-fn-ku, 
 
 Ah, how I do envy yon! 
 
 O-fu-ku, O-fu-ku, 
 
 Why do I so envy you? 
 
 This: Because where'er you stay. 
 
 You can demons drive away; 
 
 In a ])ainting which I own. 
 
 Throwing beans, you there are shown, 
 
 Throwing them with all your might. 
 
 Driving demons from your sight; 
 
 Ah, if I but could do this, 
 
 Then my cup were filled with bliss! 
 
 O-fu-ku, O-fu-ku, 
 
 I no more will envy you, 
 
 If to me 3^ou'll give this power ' 
 
 In fee simple as a dower; 
 
 It may take up all my means 
 
 Just to buy the sacks of beans. 
 
 But I'll throw them hard and straight. 
 
 And these nuisances abate; 
 
 It will be well worth the price — 
 
 Make this life a Paradise. 
 
 O-fu-ku, O-fu-ku, 
 
 Surely that for me you'll do; 
 
 Ah, the demons that abound 
 
 In and out and all around! 
 
 Demon "lazy," demon "late," 
 
 Demon "hurry," demon "wait,'' 
 
 Demon "debt forgot to pay," 
 
 Demon "talks my time away;" 
 
 O-fu-ku, O-fu-ku, 
 
 Ah, how I do envy you! 
 
 19 
 
THE TEACHER 
 
 We've dreamers had whose dreams came true 
 And all the world was helped thereby; 
 
 But e 'en tlieir failure brought to view" 
 Some latent possibility; 
 
 There's one whose wagon trails a star, 
 
 To her my lays indited are. 
 
 She sees witliin each little flame, 
 That stands up-smiling at her knee, 
 
 The lire that will emblaze a name 
 To honor all humanity; 
 
 And though herself may be forgot. 
 
 She fans the flame, it matters not. 
 
 No sculptor clearer image sees 
 
 Within the marble's darksome shade; 
 
 No brush can limn such qualities — 
 Immortal attributes God made ; 
 
 Hers the alchemist's touch to fuse 
 
 All blemishes to beauty's hues. 
 
 She bears the Lamp where learning goes. 
 Between all seas where free hearts dwell; 
 
 'Tis she who Patriotism sows — 
 With Loyalty makes all hearts swell; 
 
 Though such her aims, so soft her tread, 
 
 We leave the praiseful word unsaid. 
 
 In city's heart, on wind-swept plain, 
 On mountain height or far-flung vale; 
 
 In cold or heat, in shine or rain. 
 Discouragements in vain assail; 
 
 The highest call which humans hear 
 
 Makes patient duty one of cheer. 
 
 To her away what memories run ! 
 
 What sweet aromas round her cling. 
 Who guided when we first begun 
 
 To answer learning's beckoning! 
 To syllable taught me the art, 
 Enshrined herself within my heart ! 
 
 20 
 
Friends, when the throng* the air has rent 
 With cheers and cannon's lond applause, 
 
 To throne some great one President, 
 Think wlio of greatness is the cause ; 
 
 Who oft unsung, unheard, unknown. 
 
 Is vet the nation's corner-stone. 
 
 JOHN BURROUGHS 
 
 Where 'er he walked, companion of the trails. 
 Through fields or woods, along the verdant dales. 
 He found fair kindred of the furred and feathered wild, 
 And knew their homelife as a father knows his child. 
 
 Where'er he walked, there came an eager throng. 
 Tike children followed Pied, lured by his song; 
 Tliese caught his vision — all creatures had new charm — 
 And learned 'twas nobler to do them naught of harm. 
 
 Where'er he walked, fair Nature brighter shone 
 And millions saw ; they loved him as their own ; 
 A deeper sympathy in widening circles ran 
 Till all the knowing earth rejoiced for such a man. 
 
 Where'er he walked, his voice is missed today. 
 None other so endowed to lead the mystic way ; 
 But we have memories more precious far than gold. 
 And visions that will gladden while time itself shall hold. 
 
 John Burroughs, Naturalist; b. April 3, 1837; d. 
 March 29, 1921. 
 
 21 
 
HE CALLED THEM GOOD 
 
 Wlien you have climbed Sierra's heights, 
 
 And felt with me their kingly sway; 
 Have seen them clothed in ember lights 
 
 Like streams of gold at close of day; 
 Have gazed across the valley's span 
 
 And of vast spaces caught the mood, 
 You'll understand — a sentient man — 
 
 How, when He 'd made, God called them good. 
 
 When you the trampling surf have heard 
 
 Aboom in grand cathedral tones. 
 Upon the sturdy cliffs that guard — 
 
 Their sentinel the Farallones; 
 Have seen the Day King slow descend 
 
 Into Pacific's crimson flood 
 To gild the day with glorious end, 
 
 I'ou'll understand; God called them good. 
 
 When you have walked 'neath yew and pine 
 
 And mused where great sequoias reign; 
 Bowed at Yosemite's steep shrine 
 
 As pilgrim at some pillard fane ; 
 Seen wood and stream with life abound. 
 
 The fat globe bearing luscious food 
 Where man may feast the seasons round ; 
 
 You'll understand; God called them good. 
 
 When you have felt the thrill of bloom, 
 
 The foothills swathed in cloth-of-gold ; 
 The soothing helitrope's perfume, 
 
 The dreams that fill the twilight wold ; 
 Have caught the vision, calm, serene, 
 
 Of His intent, its pulchritude — 
 A foretaste of His realm unseen, — 
 
 You'll understand; God called them good. 
 
 22 
 
THE HILLS THAT CHARM 
 
 They hold me still with a charm most tender, 
 
 The hills that diiiii)le and bid me stay; 
 They dress so comely in emerald splendor 
 
 Or brown, starred with poppies, up all the way; 
 And when I am tempted afar to wander, 
 
 I hear a whisper and my bosom thrills^ — 
 They call me back from away off yonder. 
 
 Do my hills, my California hills. 
 
 Oft I have listened to the Tempter's wooing, 
 
 And followed her north, sontli, east and west. 
 Beguiled by her into pursuing 
 
 Some other Eschol that was best; 
 I sought in climes by fame most golden 
 
 Plucked fruits by other crystal rills; 
 But naught could appease my heartlove olden 
 
 For my hills, my California hills. 
 
 Oh, I love the soil where the clover quickens, 
 
 Where the tig invites and the grape endears; 
 Where the fields wave gold and abundance thickens, 
 
 And age is endowed with youthful years; 
 I love til' green bay and tli' round red beriy, 
 
 The raisin and orange to feast as one wills; 
 The song-birds join in a chorus merry 
 
 For my hills, my California hills. 
 
 The vales and uplands are so bonny. 
 
 The kine and the flocks browse in pastures deep; 
 The quail pipes his lay, the bees mint honey, 
 
 And fish in the streams for gladness leap; 
 The breeze blows soft with a breath of the ocean, 
 
 That valor inspires and virtue instills; 
 There's nought calls forth my deepest devotion 
 
 Like my hills, my California hills. 
 
 Here dwell the sons, the true of all nations. 
 Who came by the light of a far-gleaming star; 
 
 To find in life's round untold jubilations 
 
 Mid the fatness of earth, where men as kings are ; 
 
 23 
 
Of gold there is plenty, but fairer the daughters, 
 Fair in that wisdom which gladdens and thrills ; 
 
 They swell the delights, like Hymettan waters, 
 Of my hills, my California hills. 
 
 Yes, they hold me still with a charm most tender, 
 
 The hills that dimple and bid me stay; 
 They dress so comely in emerald splendor 
 
 Or brown starred with poppies, up all the way; 
 No more shall the Tempter entice me to wander, 
 
 Content is my heart and with rature o'erspills; 
 For here with the passing of days I grow fonder 
 
 Of my hills, my California hills. 
 
 SONG 
 
 Oh, the fragrant violet! 
 
 I adore it! 
 
 I adore it! 
 Springing where the fairies meet. 
 By a brooklet crooning down, 
 O'er the rocks so worn and brown, 
 To the sunny foothill town; 
 One could here almost forget 
 All things save the violet. 
 
 I adore it, 
 
 I adore it, 
 I adore the violet. 
 
 "Why adore the violet, 
 
 In such measure, 
 
 With such pleasure?" 
 Oft I, when the sun is set, 
 Weave a garland for her hair — 
 Crown for maiden wondrous fair, 
 Which she coyly deigns to wear. 
 Token of love's coronet. 
 (Ah, how sweet the violet!) 
 
 This the pleasure. 
 
 Why the measure, 
 I adore the violet. 
 
 24 
 
THE ORANGE TREE 
 
 Of trees, like books, there is no end, 
 Yet each his choice may praise; 
 
 Tlierefore I for the orange speak — 
 For it my voice I 'd raise. 
 
 Its yellow globes like nuggets hang 
 'Mid leaves of green and bronze; 
 
 And drooping hang so all may reach 
 Its ripest, sweetest, ones. 
 
 On days, when sweltering is the heat 
 
 And sun-rays do their worst, 
 I hie me to an orange tree 
 
 And pluclv and slake my thirst. 
 
 How sweet the pulp to parched lips 
 
 Or hunger's keen desire! 
 And then I sit beneath its boughs 
 
 And its cool shade admire — 
 
 Admire the tree and call it best 
 
 In all God's spacious plan; 
 Its fruit and leaves with beauty crowned 
 
 A jeweled gift to man. 
 
 25 
 
A GLIMPSE 
 
 She sat with a sister woman on a park bench ; 
 
 Her face wore the bitterness of a thousand damned souls, 
 
 And she spoke red insults to passersby. 
 
 The silk of her was no longer even fustian; 
 Youth despoiled, God's mirror of beauty gone, 
 She was a sore, a fester on the name of woman. 
 
 This was in siglit of the Dewey monument, 
 This was where the mighty of earth had marched. 
 This was where great wealth was heaped up in great 
 heaps. 
 
 She was poor beyond nakedness. 
 
 She was poor beyond wanting a dry cnist. 
 
 She was poor to wanting a soul ! 
 
 Shameless she sat exhaling the fumes of rum and ruin; 
 I saw this question in a newspaper: Is there a Hell? 
 Oh, brother, sister, it is right here! 
 
 OLD OCEAN 
 
 Vast Tumult, thou, lap'd on a space-flung earth; 
 
 Thy seething trouble casts more witching thrall 
 Than red alembics of auroral birth, 
 
 Or Vulcan's flame or smoking meteor's fall. 
 
 'Gainst tliee, how weak is man!— who span thy power 
 When the wild tempest rides to furious goalf 
 
 Man's ships caress thy bosom — one fell hour 
 
 And thou couldst sink to bysmal depths his every soul. 
 
 Symbol of Might! Beside thy crested wave 
 
 A speck ui:)on creation's face I stand; 
 Across the centuries thou hast rolled to lave 
 These rocks by fiat of Creative Hand. 
 
 For greater far than thou as thou to man, 
 There reigns a power untroubled and benign; 
 
 'Tis Mind Eternal, enthroned e 'er time began, 
 Holds me of worth beyond such might as thine. 
 
 26 
 
VOYAGES 
 
 Oft I have sat anear the sunset sea, 
 
 Apart from the mad strife of gainful men ; 
 
 Where mountains rose and zephyrs from the lea 
 
 Touched soft the brow till earth seemed young again. 
 
 Here Nature smiled through flower and bird's glad song, 
 Through crystal springs, sweet gurgling from the 
 snows ; 
 
 The sky bedecked with bannered cloud-steeds hung 
 In all the varied colors of the rose. 
 
 Ah! how I joyed in all her cosmic grace: 
 The sea, deep-nested in the lap of earth; 
 
 The bay, fair moulded into gracious space, 
 Where world fleets joined could find a harbored berth. 
 
 Oft I have watched the ships, like swans for ease, 
 Leave harbor nest, glide out the Golden Gate, 
 
 Eager as lovers to greet the whitened seas 
 
 And kiss as those long-parted when they meet. 
 
 Some were o'erweathered with sea-faring age — 
 The rusty sails, dull tackle, boats and oars — 
 
 Like Golden Hinds with a past equipage. 
 And Drakes newventuring to primal shores. 
 
 Some were new fabriced and still proudly bore 
 The christening garlands of a recent day; 
 
 Both old and new were seeking some far shore, 
 Some port of Lid, perhaps of far Cathay. 
 
 They followed down, companions of the sun. 
 But would return when finished was their quest 
 
 Full and rich laden ; and, the voyage done. 
 Would nest again here of all ports the best. 
 
 And I, still musing midst the poppy's bloom. 
 Saw ships come home or go on voyage bent. 
 
 Until the mid sweet heliotrope's perfume 
 Lulled me to voyage in dream's Orient. 
 
 27 
 
THE OLD SHIP SPEAKS 
 
 Once more the rhythmic pulse I feel 
 Of surging brine against my prow; 
 
 Once more there thrills from mast to keel 
 The joy of life as when my vow 
 
 I made as bride-to-be and true 
 
 And slid the ways to the arms of blue. 
 
 Proud was I then with the pride of youth, 
 The cheers of a hearty throng were mine; 
 
 Fine fabriced too; I was, in truth, 
 The finest ship of the Clipper line; 
 
 And on my decks a happy crew 
 
 Of the j oiliest tars a ship e'er knew. 
 
 How proud they were, when all sails set. 
 They watched me cut the scudding brine! 
 
 At eighteen knots, the tops 'Is wet 
 
 From dipping rollers across the Line 
 
 For Rio bound or Calao, 
 
 Or distant port where the spices grow. 
 
 I knew old Briny's eveiy path. 
 
 From Oregon to Bombay town; 
 Knew where the stonnking whets his wrath, 
 
 And simoons often send ships down; 
 But the sailors always swore by me. 
 For I took them home through the wildest sea. 
 
 They sailed me into every port — 
 
 What joy to be a trusted ship — 
 Where peoples were of every sort. 
 
 And fruits and sweets for every lip; 
 '^Then heave ho! lads, we're homeward bound. 
 Once more we 've been the world around. ' ' 
 
 What times those were! too fine to last; 
 
 There came a change, I scarce knew how; 
 But ships ran faster or as fast 
 
 By mystic smoke with puff and blow; 
 No mast was there upon the deck, 
 Of sails, I swear, there was not a speck, 
 
 28 
 
Meanwhile I cliafed my anchor chain, 
 And chafed my spirit to the core; 
 
 I longed to hear the song again 
 Of happy tars as we left the shore; 
 
 But years I there discarded lay 
 
 As just a ship that had seen its day. 
 
 Then conflict came of martial men 
 Till nations made tumultuous war; 
 
 And ships were needed once again, 
 E'en sailing ships as clippers are. 
 
 To weave the woof and meet demand 
 
 Of commerce with war's distant strand. 
 
 I was rerigged to plow the brine 
 
 And stood forth burnished bright as new; 
 The skipper cried ''Cast off that line," 
 
 I felt the tread of a jolly crew; 
 With food a cargo for staining souls; 
 Ah ! sweet to feel how old Briny rolls. 
 
 They say beware of the sub-marine. 
 Of hidden mine or bombing plane; 
 
 Of the far-flung sliell or reef unseen, 
 
 Since a thousand ships lie sunk i' the main; 
 
 But what care I for dangers rife! 
 
 For this is life, is life, IS LIFE ! 
 
 Once more the rhythmic pulse I feel 
 Of surging brine against my prow; 
 
 Once more there thrills from mast to keel 
 The joy of life, as when my vow 
 
 I made as bride-to-be and true. 
 
 And slid the wavs to the arms of blue. 
 
 29 
 
THAT SPOT IS HOME 
 
 That spot is home wherein the heart 
 Finds fullest share of happiness; 
 
 All otherwhere it roams apart, 
 Oppressed by sordid loneliness. 
 
 'Tis lonely e 'en 'mid crowded throngs — 
 It shrinks as in a Titan's clutch, 
 
 And for that recognition longs 
 
 Which sooths it with a kindred touch. 
 
 Though wealth and pomp and pleasure tread 
 In robes of ermine and of gold, 
 
 It in the desert dwells instead, 
 Or on some Alpine summit cold. 
 
 Then whether rich or poor my lot 
 Or howsofar compelled to roam; 
 
 I'll seek to find that quiet spot, 
 
 "Wherein content my heart's at home. 
 
 OLD BEN 
 
 Old Ben the l)oisterous, 
 
 On his lips a snarl; 
 Seeking for a quarrel with us. 
 
 Curses he must hurl; 
 Rum has warped his countenance, 
 
 Wai*ped his temper too; 
 Thus goes Ben the boisterous, 
 Vile and base to view. 
 
 Old Ben the boisterous, 
 
 Lips from snarls set free. 
 Seeks no more to fuss with us. 
 
 Has tranquility; 
 Death nobilit)^ has stamped 
 
 On his furrowed brow; 
 And of Ben the boisterous. 
 
 All is sacred now. 
 
 30 
 
TO A SEA-GULL 
 
 You were so much a thing of mist, 
 You were so much a creature ethereal! 
 Sometimes so uncanny in 3^our daring 
 That earth, sea and air seemed unrep[, 
 All life was but enchantment. 
 
 Fierce winds across the heads but gave you pleasure. 
 White tempests that turned the sea to mountains. 
 That sent vast cargoes upon the furious rocks. 
 And thousands on the voyage of eternity. 
 Were to you, thing of spirit, but heaps of joy. 
 
 You were so intimate with the flying spume, 
 
 The splitting rock, the appalling cliff; 
 
 You were so close in touch with the crushing wave. 
 
 The terrifying, engulfing deep; 
 
 I believed you were invulnerable — 
 
 The spirit of Hephaestus come again. 
 
 You had become the brother of Death 
 
 And Death not dark but merry-lipped; 
 
 I could not believe the dank, black thing below ^ 
 
 Advancing, receding, showing its hungry white teeth 
 
 Was waiting for a victim, was waiting for you. 
 
 Very real was boyhood's concept of death. 
 Very real but memoiy of it had paled; 
 Consciousness of it had grown dim; 
 I feared it no longer, helped on by yon, 
 At most a mirage to be avoided by daring. 
 
 Now at sight of you how my high hopes fall. 
 You who played the game so bravely! 
 Unconsciously I had built up hopes. 
 Built up, helped on by you, that death was not. 
 At least was not for you and me. 
 
 Your folded wings bespeak the inevitable. 
 And now by every wind that cuts the wave. 
 By every wave that smites the rock. 
 By every storm that churns the deep. 
 May I play the game no less bravely. 
 
 31 
 
NOW COURAGE HEART 
 
 Now, courage, Heart! stand true and fast, 
 
 Sunnount obstructing steeps; 
 Tliough storms affright, they cannot last 
 
 To him who vigil keeps; 
 When fears beset they may undo. 
 Unless thou keep the goal in view. 
 
 Toil on and thou slialt surely come 
 To restful heights 'neath azure skies; 
 
 And have reward through all life's sum 
 Which conies to him who truly tries; 
 
 New light will come as thou ascendest, 
 
 If faith and hope with courage blendest. 
 
 WAITING 
 
 I saw the patient sea, 
 Beautiful in its movements; 
 In a lone place I saw it. 
 Where the fog reigns perpetually. 
 Shutting out tlie brightness, 
 Shutting out the love-wamith, 
 Shutting out the stars; 
 It never sees the celestial world. 
 Yet its mirror is turned upward, 
 Polished and ready — 
 Waiting, waiting. 
 
 In an obscure canon. 
 
 Far from liuman habitation. 
 
 Are banks of flowers. 
 
 They have the turquoise of the sky, 
 
 The warmth of the lava. 
 
 The flame of sunset gold; 
 
 32 
 
There is symmetry, 
 There is fragrance, 
 There is beauty. 
 
 But no eyes to see, to admire — 
 Waiting-, waiting. 
 
 I liave seen an aged widow 
 Facing bravely on; 
 Struggling with the care of others, 
 Struggling against penury, 
 Struggling with the burdens that are, 
 Fighting against loneliness. 
 Dreading the night, the day. 
 Craving release from toil. 
 Praying Heaven for help — 
 Waiting, waiting. 
 
 Life and the heart-cry — 
 Crying for fulfillment, 
 Crying for perfection. 
 Crying for continunity. 
 Longing for the spiritual. 
 Longing for the dream-life. 
 Longing for the ideal 
 
 I shall sing of the music, the welcoming. 
 Till this half-world opens to its fellow. 
 Singing helpfully, working cheerfully — 
 Waiting, waiting. 
 
 33 
 
THE ORANGE TREE SPEAKS 
 
 To the orange tree I said: 
 
 ' ' Listen, Orange, listen ; 
 Why do you yonr blossoms spread 
 
 Creamy white to glisten? 
 When they'll but so briefly stay. 
 Then to earth and fade away. 
 With all else that must decay — 
 
 Death they do it christen. 
 
 ''Why give pain to primal dust 
 
 With your agitation f 
 Wlien your beauty soon will rust. 
 
 Pass to desolatipn; 
 Why should you the sun inveigh, 
 Shower of spring and summer day. 
 Struggling ever 'gainst decay. 
 
 What's the consolation?" 
 
 Then the orange made reply: 
 
 "This, sir, is the reason: 
 They leave promise e'er they die 
 
 To give fruit in season; 
 Fimit makes glad the heart of man. 
 Adding pleasure to life's span. 
 None with such abundance can 
 
 Give himself to treason." 
 
 "Granted this, but still I claim 
 Fruit, too, passes quickly; 
 
 And if this be all your aim. 
 Then your reason's sickly; 
 
 Why excite the humble dust? 
 
 Birth-throes surely are unjust. 
 
 Fail your every promise must, 
 E'en though showered thickly." 
 
 Frankly, then, replied the tree. 
 
 Smiling but denying: 
 "Birth-throes set the dust aglee. 
 
 'Tis the Plan applying; 
 
 34 
 
Tree and flower and fruited mirth, 
 Prince and peasant who tread the earth, 
 Owe to dust the gift of birth — 
 There's no need of sighing. 
 
 Beauty and passion now astir 
 
 Join in this excelling; 
 Dust and flame with love as spur, 
 
 Earth with life, are swelling; 
 Though to dust all must return, 
 Each shall live again and yearn 
 Still to live — they death will spurn — 
 
 Life is so inipelliug, " 
 
 PEARY 
 
 (Discovered the North Pole, April 6, 1909) 
 
 With heart of oak that feared not Tethy's ire. 
 He steered his bark into the icy vasts — 
 
 A Wainamoinen daring to aspire 
 
 To mighty conquest 'midst northland blasts. 
 
 Not his the fear of dread Plutonian caves, 
 Where storied monsters greedily await; 
 
 Nor hungry maelstrom on whose gyring waves 
 The mariner is hurled to an awful fate. 
 
 Nor yet chill Boreas whose wliited breath 
 
 Turns seas to glass, congeals the heart's red blood; 
 
 Nor lethal chasms — one step to icy death — 
 Nor Titan hills of cold obstruction's flood. 
 
 He braved the battlements of reigning Night, 
 When Phoebus turned his jealous smile away; 
 
 E'en Ashtoreth, with all her jeweled might, 
 Waxed dim or fled with Dawn and fickle Day. 
 
 The doom of Franklin and our own Delong, 
 True Knights of Conquest, did not him appall; 
 
 His life's fell purpose 'gainst Terror's throng. 
 Was set to conquer this terrestrial ball. 
 
 35 
 
Thougli Valkyrs with swift steeds and flaming spears 
 Made choice of one to hear Valhalla's call, 
 
 He faltered not but calmed all rising fears 
 By faith in One who hears the sparrow's fall. 
 
 Thus strongly armed, this donghty Argonaut 
 
 Slew the fierce Minatanr of icy space; 
 Brought back the prize for which long years he sought, 
 
 With honor to his flag and to his race. 
 
 To him we grant the laurel wreath and crown. 
 Nor wait the pall to give him tardy praise; 
 
 Achievement his, unequaled in renown, 
 To him this day the victor's paean raise. 
 
 April, 1911. 
 
 WHISPERS 
 
 (East of Chicago) 
 
 Wigwams dotting the levels and the hills, 
 Emerald chains with tawny gold pendants round about. 
 Smoke and haze pervading from some giant breathing. 
 Airplanes honking and arrowing; 
 
 Choice fruit of early parents in huge heaps. 
 Wheels turning, boys with straws sucking joyously, 
 Woodchuck burrowing deep in hillside, 
 Muskrat laying in a big supply for a long rest; 
 
 Messengers hurrying from wigwam to wigwam. 
 They bear an open secret but whisper it, 
 You have but to listen to hear them whisper it; 
 It is a wonderful message! 
 
 36 
 
THE AFTERMATH 
 
 Time moves along as on the winds that blow, 
 
 While restless hearts groan in their discontent, 
 
 And speech with lond complaints is often blent; 
 
 The world has changed, they say, and this we know. 
 
 Yet rarely reason why this change is so. 
 
 Onr nsnal patience oft is mostly spent. 
 
 Because things cost, like the high cost of rent. 
 
 If we'd recall, in searching cause of woe. 
 
 Those emperors of time. Effect and Cause, 
 
 Since the world's orgy in the fields of wrath. 
 
 The reason for the change would be quite plain. 
 
 For these hold sway by inexorable laws — 
 
 Compel us now to bear the aftermath — 
 
 There's no escape, the wish is all in vain. 
 
 This heritage of cause is hard to bear. 
 
 And by lax ways we've tried full hard to see 
 
 If from all laws we might not be set free. 
 
 But find these laws are laws which no man spare, 
 
 Nor spare aught else existing anywhere. 
 
 AVe've tried the gangster rule, would gangsters be 
 
 Of race or clan as in antiquity ; 
 
 Sunk man below his clan until his share 
 
 Of freedom was that of a puppet man; 
 
 Now we are going back, believing in the law. 
 
 Not that of race or clan, but that our fathers founded; 
 
 We're a brotherhood of brothers, wondrous plan. 
 
 By Heaven's will, the best the world e'er saw. 
 
 Each man a MAN, faith in his fellowman unbounded. 
 
 37 
 
MY CALIFORNIA STATE . 
 
 With feel of soft winds blowing, 
 
 And pleasures stealing, growing. 
 
 My car glides on through California State, 
 
 Across the landscape level, 
 
 From heights where snowbanks revel, 
 
 A-dipping down to greet the Golden Gate. 
 
 I pass the grainfields golden. 
 
 Like Scripture story olden. 
 
 Where Ruth might glean and find wealth manifold; 
 
 Through orchards orange-fruited 
 
 And vineyards to me suited. 
 
 Or mines where they wash out the yellow gold. 
 
 Then on to trees appalling. 
 
 To canons speech forestalling. 
 
 And waterfalls that mist in space away; 
 
 The trout from rivers leaping, 
 
 With hook and line tryst keeping, 
 
 Ah, here forevermore I want to stay. 
 
 But on my car keeps going. 
 
 While in my heart is flowing 
 
 A song that cannot thwarted be by fate; 
 
 And with it is the feeling. 
 
 As sunset joys come stealing. 
 
 This is my own, my California State. 
 
 38 
 
AT CYPRESS POINT 
 
 Time's, sturdy tools of storm and shine 
 
 A haip have fashioned here; 
 Each cycle carved some scroll or line, 
 Attuned some note to cord divine, 
 Upon the cypress tree *design 
 For music soft and clear. 
 
 Here comes King Aeolus to string 
 
 His melody of song; 
 Here Poisodon joins chorusing. 
 Their sounding voices upward wing, 
 Uniting with the spheres that sing — 
 
 Their mutual strains prolong. 
 
 Anon the many-footed rain 
 
 Falls with soft-pedaled grace; 
 
 Or silvery mists subdue the strain. 
 
 While homing wings add their refrain. 
 
 E'er comes the surging hurricane, 
 
 A-boom with thundering base. 
 
 Here one may muse at close of day 
 
 When Phoebus rests his car ; 
 May glimpse the centuries at play; 
 They can^e a lyric, pipe a lay, 
 Or light a dyptytch with a ray, 
 
 Then haste to scenes afar. 
 
 Man, like the cyj^ress tree, must hold 
 
 To life's rock-seamed span; 
 Upon him passion's strains unfold, 
 Play light and soft, play harsh and bold. 
 That he may all his nature mold 
 
 Into the master man. 
 
 (*At last, accounts this tree was still clinging to the 
 barren rocks in spite of the thrashing tempests and the 
 scorchings of blistering suns. Its body is gnarled and 
 dwarfed, yet it persists in keeping this arid, inhospitable 
 spot green.) 
 
 39 
 
HONEY-THOUGHTS 
 
 When I cut honey from the comb 
 Inwoven by a busy loom, 
 And eat it with some bread and butter, 
 Then thoughts just throng which I must utter. 
 
 I feel the urge of Israel's lure 
 
 The milk and honey to secure, 
 
 And reach, though footsore, Canaan's strand. 
 
 Where such abundance filled the land. 
 
 I hear the riddle known age-long; 
 Sweeter than sweet or lion strong. 
 Which Sampson gave but told and then 
 No stronger was than other men. 
 
 I eat and taste the joys of wing — 
 Delights of outward journeying. 
 Across green fields to flowery meads, 
 Where industry on nectar feeds. 
 
 The gleaners stand in wells tail-deep. 
 While yellow pollen wealth they reap; 
 Or pass, the clover to them bowing, 
 As though to royalty kotowing. 
 
 The songs of work are in the air 
 But none more fine than this I share; 
 The homeward flight with fragrant store 
 To garner it, then off once more. 
 
 I hear the chant of the early dawn. 
 The magic that bids the night be gone, 
 The day's full hum till twilight's peace 
 Gives tired wings well earned release. 
 
 40 
 
I find that order is the law, 
 Hive hannony is without flaw; 
 That work's another term for faith 
 And loyalty's as strong as death. 
 
 This is the lesson that I learn, 
 That gives life charm at every turn; 
 To fill my place with faithful zest, 
 Then of all wealth I'll have the best. 
 
 WAVES 
 
 Down to the shore I've been. Love, 
 
 Down to the sea; 
 I watched each wave as it came in, 
 
 Watched it with glee; 
 I said: ''I love you every one, 
 I like to see you rolling on. 
 Because, once in the days agone. 
 
 You favored me." 
 
 "How could they favor you, Dear, 
 Rough, wild their sway? 
 
 Thus: In a far, far land. 
 Where strange maids stay, 
 
 I, homesick, for you cried. 
 
 Each wave helped wind and tide, 
 
 Till I stood by your side. 
 No more to strav. 
 
 41 
 
THE POOR AMERICAN 
 
 Come, gentle Waves and wliisp'ring Winds 
 
 And hear tliis my complaint: 
 
 For I was born here in this land 
 
 In Freedom's nnrestraint; 
 
 Here everybody has his friends, 
 
 His race or fighting clan. 
 
 But me — I am so lonesome here, 
 
 Just an American. 
 
 There's Fritz, a trne and jolly sport, 
 They cannot keep him down; 
 He was a little weak in war. 
 But now wears ne'er a frown; 
 For he owns all the land, it seems. 
 Or rules it to a man. 
 While I — I must my silence keep, 
 I'm an American. 
 
 And there is Pat, wise in his years, 
 Knew where to be well born ; 
 But didn't stay, he came away 
 For room to blow his horn; 
 And everybody speaks for him, 
 ''Down trodden is his clan," 
 While I — I am so lonesome here. 
 Just an American. 
 
 The Johnnies and Canucks are here. 
 
 Come from a better shore, 
 
 But stay because while here they may 
 
 Speak louder than before; 
 
 And go about like mighty lords, 
 
 I'm glad all comers can; 
 
 But I — I must my silence keep, 
 
 I 'm an American. 
 
 42 
 
The pale-liaired Swede, the Parley-Voo, 
 
 The Dago, Jap and Dane, 
 
 The Vix-o-vokx and the Vox-o-Vikx 
 
 Are here and will remain; 
 
 They're in the lead, head the parade 
 
 With chests bnlged out a span. 
 
 While I — I am so lonesome here, 
 
 I'm an American. 
 
 Just once I felt a thrill of joy; 
 They wanted men who'd fight; 
 And make Democracy secure, 
 For aye men's highest right; 
 But when I came back home again 
 My every word they'd scan. 
 And silence now I have to keep — 
 I'm an American. 
 
 Oh, Waves and Sympathizing Winds; 
 
 Would I'd been born elsewhere. 
 
 In Borriogoola Gha or Yap, 
 
 In Fizzum or Bzoghzxair; 
 
 For then I might be reckoned in, 
 
 Perhaps be called a man; 
 
 I'd not be then so lonesome quite 
 
 As an American. 
 
 43 
 
THE FLIGHT 
 
 The air-sliip climbed the vaulted height, 
 
 The flier's fears protesting; 
 Each circle on the ambient air, 
 Rose higher as on Babel's stair. 
 Save here confusion found no share. 
 
 The course or speed arresting. 
 
 At last the craft triumphant bore 
 
 Him 'gainst opposing forces; 
 Among the stars so big and round. 
 And silences sweet as profound, 
 He wished no more to see the ground, 
 But float in starry courses. 
 
 And so time's ship bears us along, 
 
 Unto the silent spaces; 
 We aviators dread the flight, 
 But once arrived and all is bright, 
 No more we'll wish e'en for a sight, 
 
 Of earth or mortal places. 
 
 THE RIVER'S TORRENT 
 
 Thou art a symbol of abounding life. 
 
 Lusty and eager in thy onward course; 
 Gaily song-brooding and with incense rife 
 
 Thou wend'st with rhythmic cadence from thy source. 
 
 Symbol again of death, thy sullen power, 
 Resistless, as the law of change, thy way; 
 
 Thou sweep 'st aside like playthings of an hour 
 Obstruction's labored bulwarks 'gainst thy sway. 
 
 44 
 
THERE ARE NOBLER THINGS 
 
 I know a peace-topped mount I call "Heartsease," 
 For situation nature made wise choice; 
 
 There e'en in heated summer blows a breeze, 
 And birds make glad the day with sylvan voice. 
 
 There first the manzanita opes its bloom 
 And fills its chalices with dewy store; 
 
 There round the flowery buckthorn bees resume 
 Their eager task to garner sweets once more. 
 
 A gurgling rill from higher ground trips down 
 'Neath the madrona and the darksome yew; 
 
 A dimpled fringe of cress in emerald gown 
 Mid fern-clad rocks enchants the fairy view. 
 
 There pastures grow for the industrious kine. 
 Which climb the rugged trails to this retreat; 
 
 And, having fed, beneath the trees recline 
 
 To chew contentment's cud well-earned and sweet. 
 
 There oft I climb when weary of the strife. 
 To hear the tinkling bells of sweet content; 
 
 'Tis there I find rejuvenation's fife 
 Woos back life's best, its crowning blandishment. 
 
 I find surcease from fell ambition's sway — 
 No urge to wealth nor fame's exalted goal; 
 
 And Heav'n bends near and whispers low to say: 
 "There 're nobler things to satisfy the soul." 
 
 45 
 
THADDEUS KEARNS 
 
 "Why do men sigh and women weep?" 
 
 "Oh! stranger, this is why: 
 Tlie Reaper has been liere to reap — 
 Took one we so ninch wished to keep; 
 Called him to enter his long sleep, 
 
 Who was o'er yonng to die. 
 
 His name was Kearns, yon '11 want to know. 
 
 We mostly called him Thad; 
 He was the bravest lad to go. 
 Where danger Inrked by tests to show 
 How science conld o'ercome a foe. 
 
 That progress might be had. 
 
 Although so yonng, with earnest care 
 
 He toiled at his machine; 
 Until, by skill and genius rare. 
 He could with it fly anywhere. 
 Upon the coy and mystic air. 
 
 The earth and sky between. 
 
 And when success his efforts crown 'd. 
 
 As they deserved to be; 
 He like an eagle left the ground. 
 Winged high his flight and round and round— 
 With cheers the echoes did resound. 
 
 It was a sight to see. 
 
 Achievement's pride was in the face 
 
 Of our ambitious Thad; 
 Though as he flew from place to place. 
 His thoughts were of the human race^ — 
 Ho]ied better things would come apace. 
 
 Through him to make them glad. 
 
 He was so gentle, true and kind. 
 
 Courageous from his birth; 
 But valor nor fine traits of mind. 
 Could save him when a wing declined 
 To serve its purpose as designed. 
 
 And all crashed to the earth. 
 
 46 
 
A dreadful moment filled with pain, 
 
 To see our brave boy fall! 
 He gave his life yet not in vain; 
 He'd surely give it o'er again, 
 If a perfected aeroplane. 
 
 He could provide for all. 
 
 And so men sigh and maidens weep. 
 For hero Thaddeus Kearns; 
 
 Through times to sow and times to reap, 
 
 His name they'll ever sacred keep; 
 
 And though he yonder lies asleep, 
 The heart still for him vearns. " 
 
 FINDING LIFE'S GOLD 
 
 Day after day, week after toilsome week, 
 
 I heard the miner's thudding pick and drill; 
 Begrimed he was with toil and sweat and mud. 
 
 Yet daily grew the tunnel by his will — 
 Grew as he breasted down the stubborn clay 
 
 And wheeled it out and cast it down the slope, 
 Pausing betimes to take a moment's rest, 
 
 Then on again with never failing hope. 
 
 "Why work so hard," I asked, "and spend your means, 
 When not a grain of gold have you yet found?" 
 
 "Oh, sir, the gold is there, God put it there. 
 
 And I shall find it when I reach gold-bearing ground." 
 
 To have the miner's faith has been my prayer. 
 When come, as will, tlie days of doubt and dearth; 
 
 To have clear vision — no figs on thistles grow — 
 These joined with work will find the gold of earth. 
 
 47 
 
TO MISTER GEORGE STERLING 
 
 Fill up, fill up, once more, tlie cup, 
 When sparkling flows the wine; 
 
 And give us each another sup 
 Of fancy such as thine. 
 
 Watch once again that mddy glow. 
 Muse at that shrine so rich. 
 
 Where wizardry is wont to show 
 The tilings that so bewitch. 
 
 Call maidens forth and ardent souls. 
 
 By divination seen; 
 Then wottled monsters, bloody ghouls. 
 
 With hungry growl and mien. 
 
 Bid Hecate lift her cowl once more, 
 
 Let Circe poisons spread; 
 While Satan holds one flayed and sore 
 
 Whose shrieks but joleasure shed. 
 
 Take us to fell Tartarian fires, 
 
 Undominate of men; 
 Appease once more our deep desires 
 
 By magic of thy pen. 
 
 48 
 
THE CHAIN OF SILENCE 
 
 In days agoiie, when Time was passing young 
 
 And Thought still fluttered on its fledgling wings; 
 E're Memory had writ on scroll outflung, 
 
 And Aeolus alone tuned vocal strings; 
 There were in ancient Erin mj^stic bards 
 
 AVho caught their rhythmic notes upon the wind 
 And sang their lays so soft that merest shards 
 
 Alone are left to the enquiring mind. 
 
 The gist and burden of that ancient lay 
 
 Howe'er engossamered in silky myth, 
 Yet holds a pregnant message for today — 
 
 A dole of wisdom 'tis if not the pith; 
 Yet ye shall judge and here the substance know, 
 
 As it has ambled down the trails of time. 
 In mystic symbols of the long ago, 
 
 In runic, Gaelic and Druidic rhyme. 
 
 In those rude days, when brutal war held reign, 
 
 And men were bound in tribes to live or fall, 
 Chanced hordes of Finns and Gauls to sail the main 
 
 To the Green Isle; its beauty cast its thrall 
 Till each to win it sought in deadly fight; 
 
 Sometimes the Finns, sometimes the Gauls won out. 
 And still they fought, so dear the prize in sight. 
 
 Yet neither could the other put to route. 
 
 At length, when most were wearied, weak and sore, 
 
 And dank the field lay covered with the slain, 
 The rank-and-file hard-wished the conflict o'er, 
 
 When suddenly came winging by a chain! 
 All knew the gods "The Chain of Silence" sent 
 
 And sprang to grasp nor would their hold release, 
 But shook from it such tones with magic blent. 
 
 That Finn and Gaul forever dwelt in peace. 
 
 49 
 
OUR LOVE SHALL LIVE 
 
 The day is near its close, 
 Dear, come witli me, 
 
 And let ns seek repose 
 Beneath the orange tree, 
 
 While ling 'ring day still shows 
 The homing bird and bee. 
 
 Past be the chafing day 
 
 With all its care; 
 All shall be slint away. 
 
 Nor steal back unaware. 
 That undisturbed we may 
 
 Our-heart-thoughts share. 
 
 Ah! now the mountains seem 
 In closer brotherhood; 
 
 The river's silent gleam 
 Speaks only gratitude, 
 
 And all the valley's dream 
 Is wreathed in plenitude. 
 
 The roundelay of time 
 
 Runs sweetly on; 
 Celestial chant and chime. 
 
 In soothing carillon, 
 Breathe out angelic rhyme 
 
 Beyond comparison. 
 
 Ne'er was the world so full 
 
 Of sentient gold; 
 Nor wine of richer mull. 
 
 However old; 
 Nor fragrance wonderful 
 
 Ne'er to be told. 
 
 50 
 
The city with its fame 
 
 Of pick and pan, 
 Still shines with lustrous name 
 
 And may again 
 As when far-faring came 
 
 Wealth-seeking man. 
 
 A wealth we have more rare 
 Than what they sought; 
 
 No more was sun or air 
 By gold e'er bought, 
 
 It lightens every care 
 Just as it ought. 
 
 This we will keep for aye — 
 
 Will you and I; 
 The ills that fret and fray 
 
 Shall pass it by; 
 And though all else decay, 
 
 This shall not die. 
 
 SEA ROCKS 
 
 (To 
 
 I saw sea rocks with green grass growing. 
 Clinging in spite of thrust and thrash of storm; 
 I saw mountain lava nourishing bright flowers. 
 Bright although all soil seemed washed away. 
 
 Life's thrash and storm, its lava's harshness, yes; 
 But sparkling above them and throug-li them is your love. 
 Brighter than green moss, fairer than springing flowers ; 
 And memories of you are far more sweetly fragrant. 
 
 51 
 
SWEET MADNESS 
 
 There is sweet madness in the air, 
 In surge of life and buyant hope; 
 
 It thrills the breeze, the dawn's more fair, 
 And every joy is bursting ope. 
 
 AA'ith panting breath, the Southwind comes, 
 Its vagrant footsteps sounding near; 
 
 The crested quail the signal drums, 
 And Earth is glad for Spring is here. 
 
 With regal smile, she takes command. 
 Drives off the gaoled, old and gray; 
 
 Sets free her jewels — key in hand. 
 To robe earth gayest of the gay. 
 
 With swiftest pace and velvet tread, 
 She stirs to rapture vale and crest; 
 
 Persuades all creatures now to wed. 
 For of all seasons this is best. 
 
 Each bud is touched with lover's kiss. 
 
 Each bursting flower with passion's flame; 
 
 They radiate their store of bliss. 
 In honor of the reigning dame. 
 
 The orange and the olive glow. 
 
 New verdure crowns with festive green; 
 And in their veins new nectars flow. 
 
 To thurify their snowy sheen. 
 
 The Feather speeds, with banks a-flush, 
 To join in nuptial touch the sea; 
 
 There's chirp and song and wings a-rush — 
 To mate and nest is ecstacy. 
 
 Man too rejuvenescence feels — 
 
 An urgent impulse in his song; 
 Finds more of pleasure — joy reveals — 
 
 When this sweet madness comes along. 
 
 52 
 
STAR TOKEN 
 
 Love, 'tis hard to go away, 
 Duty calls, I must obey; 
 But this tokeu we may hold, 
 That our love may not grow cold; 
 When yon star comes into view, 
 Keep this thought, I love but you. 
 
 We may parting bravely bear 
 If this confidence we share; 
 Though beyond some mountain height, 
 Distance keeps me from your sight, 
 Still when conies that star to view. 
 Keep this thought — I love but you. 
 
 Life's uncertainties you fear, 
 I fear naught when you are near. 
 Should I die upon the main. 
 Or in battle front be slain, 
 When yon star comes into view. 
 Know I died still loving you. 
 
 TOLSTOY'S REGRET 
 
 ''Spoke amiss to Ozeroff," 
 Wrote the Count, the lov'd Lyoff, 
 When reflection's voice he heard — 
 Wished he could recall the word. 
 
 Oh, the hearts that ache to-day! 
 Words like swords may wound and slay; 
 Seems they're worse these times than others, 
 Though Christ said all men are brothers. 
 
 This be then our high resolve, 
 While time may for us revolve: 
 Ne'er by word or deed or scoff 
 Speak amiss to Ozerotf. 
 
 53 
 
INTOLERANCE OF THE SEA 
 
 Across the waste, along the tide-washed vasts, 
 Where Ocean oft her unclean refuse casts; 
 Where froth and spittle from her raging- greed 
 Bedeck the scene and noisome vapors breed ; 
 Where birds of carrion cast their lot. 
 And sea-kelp rots and sea-craft moan forgot — 
 The wrecks that once for freedom dared to cope 
 And bore the flag of happiness and hope — 
 I thoughtful walked along the dreary miles 
 (I long since learned that earth is not all smiles). 
 That I might plumb and sense the inner mood 
 Which could lay waste so much with naught of good. 
 
 I watched the tide spread o'er the wide expanse, 
 
 And this conclusion came with its advance; 
 
 The (3cean has of this vast waste no need, 
 
 She only takes to satisfy her greed; 
 
 Her share of earth is not enough to throne, 
 
 She would all other higher parts pull down 
 
 To her own level if power were but given, 
 
 And taint with lethal mists e'en turquoise heaven; 
 
 Yet such her mien and such her aspect bold, 
 
 Since first her blighting waves she shoreward rolled, 
 
 That man has always taken it for granted 
 
 That she must have whatever thing she wanted. 
 
 Always? Not so; e'en as I walked along, 
 I saw where men had built a barrier strong 
 To balk the sea, and built a city tall, 
 Secure at last within that sturdy wall ; 
 Lived happily with freedom's voice and cheer 
 Until the sea began that wall to tear — 
 
 54 
 
Worked stealthily, removing stone by stone, 
 Until at last the fatal work was done; 
 Then came the fall which weeping heaven feared, 
 That splendid city 'neath Ocean disappeared; 
 And, all was lost ! No, no, not all went down, 
 Man's courage still immortal no sea could drown. 
 
 Through hardship, blood and toil of many years, 
 
 The misery of hope deferred, of heartache and of tears, 
 
 The new wall stands, this time on newer ground, 
 
 A newer city too is built and splendors new are found; 
 
 Once more the city joys ; once more is blind 
 
 To peril, for e'en now she's undermined; 
 
 Her constant foe has found the wall's weak spot. 
 
 Nor will the city heed, her former fate forgot; 
 
 She laughs at warning and says some salt sea spray 
 
 Or e'en some waves would help on bathing day; 
 
 Thus is she doomed to fall just as before; 
 
 Thus wins the sea until men build once more. 
 
 55 
 
THE LIVING MAY NOT BE LIVING 
 THE DEAD MAY NOT BE DEAD 
 
 The old man sighed, his hair was gray and thin, 
 Yet with tirm voice this story told to me : 
 
 ''When we were wed — that's where I'd best begin — 
 All said it was a love-match verily; 
 
 None were more truly mated in all the country round, 
 
 None more by Heaven favored where'er they might be 
 found. 
 
 The truth of this. Time proved in ample measure. 
 
 Our happiness increased when children came — 
 A pair of them enhancing every pleasure, 
 
 Winsome and sturdy, a credit to our name. 
 And thus we proudly lived year after happy 3"ear, 
 The children's play and prattle adding daily to our 
 
 cheer. 
 
 Then came the time the mother went away, 
 
 A voyage of some weeks, then to return 
 To our wee Paradise ahvays to stay. 
 Nor more to leave us lone for her to yearn; 
 But e're she went away, she had our tintypes taken. 
 That parted, we might not seem utterly forsaken. 
 
 And then she sailed!" The old man wiped a tear. 
 "Ah, that Avas a sad day when her ship sailed; 
 But she was brave and stilled our every fear. 
 Though had we known, our hearts had surely quailed, 
 For 'twas her o\n\ good ship was wrecked and all were 
 
 drowned, 
 Save but a few, herself on a strange shore was found. 
 
 When she revived, the natives were most kind, 
 But as a friendly prisoner she was kept; 
 She hoped for passing ship, but no escape could find, 
 Though hoping still, tears fell oft when she slept. 
 
 56 
 
But from the wreck, she'd saved our tintypes in her 
 dress, 
 
 To these she prayed each night, her penates in distress. 
 
 Intolerable days became remorseless years, 
 With naught but toil her loneliness to ease 
 And the small picture shrine to feel her tears. 
 And think of loved ones; these did some appease; 
 While we — tlirough all those cruel years our hearts 
 
 would burn 
 Whene'er we thought of her and that she'd still return. 
 
 The years ran on, decade after decade; 
 
 The children, grown, had married and were gone ; 
 
 Alone I worshipped her, her memory would not fade. 
 
 But stayed as fresh as each returning dawn;' 
 
 Then, by some miracle of chance, her letter reached a 
 
 fort, 
 An English ship sent off a boat, took her to her home 
 
 port. 
 
 I saw her coming up the winding walk, 
 A mendicant, so wrinkled, faded, old ! 
 She looked me over hard before she'd talk: 
 'I am your wife, if rightly I've been told. 
 Though you are most too aged, must have been your son, 
 For thirty years have passed since I his features looked 
 upon. ' 
 
 I felt a shock, but did not tell her so; 
 
 For thirty years sums up a woman's life. 
 
 The rest is mere existence ; she would know 
 
 About the children; each had a husband, wife, 
 
 I said, and brought them home; but them she did not 
 
 know. 
 Nor could they call her mother as in the long ago. 
 
 57 
 
Those cruel years! She looked at us again, 
 A stranger 'mongst the strange, yet of her kin; 
 Emotion shook her as of some inward pain ; 
 Then glimpsed the tintype, put it her bosom in; 
 'I will not stay, I'd rather with your memories live 
 Than with you, flesh and blood, and all that you can give.' 
 
 And I — I could not bid her stay, 
 
 Now that she had become a memory 
 
 With a dear sister, dead long years away. 
 
 When Death and Change seemed cruel hard to me; 
 
 For now, my friend, I know the living may be dead, 
 
 The dead, not dead, a living luster round us shed. 
 
 ON TAMALPAIS 
 
 On Tamalpais the summer evening's breeze 
 Blows soft and cool, sweet-odored of the brine — 
 
 Rare-spiced with cedrine fragrance of the trees ; 
 
 The heated hills rejoice and do^\^l the banner 'd dome, 
 
 The steeds of Phaeton's swift car dip in the foam. 
 And drink of fair Pacific's l)lood-red wine. 
 
 Soft robed the shades of twilight's purpled hour. 
 Advance their hosts with silent majesty; 
 
 Unfurl their pennants, speed their mystic power. 
 
 Till the last flaming battlements of day 
 
 Red-throated yield and own triumphant sway 
 Mid the soft sobbing of the night-l)Ound sea. 
 
 Now all is hush'd save the faint-fluted tones 
 Of wild fowl honking home from sedgy strand ; 
 
 The tired earth, hot-brow 'd, allegience owns 
 
 To Stygian night ; the vast infinitude 
 
 Primordial rests in peaceful mood. 
 
 Full trusting in Omniscience' guiding hand. 
 
 58 
 
THEODORE 
 
 At Oyster Bay they laid liim, 
 
 That heart of meteor fires; 
 And simple rites they paid him 
 
 To heed his last desires. 
 There his first rest he 's taking-, 
 ^This soul so gentle, strong. 
 Until the new awaking. 
 
 This fighter of the wrong. 
 
 To Oyster Bay the nations 
 
 Come with their meeds of praise; 
 They vie in approbations, 
 
 And paeans to him raise. 
 They laud him as a great man, 
 
 Like Caesar was of old, 
 An author, warrior, statesman. 
 
 With courage ever bold. 
 
 These claims are true we doubt not. 
 
 But we, all claims above, 
 Just loved hhn 'caus^ he fought not 
 
 Without a heart of love — 
 Of honor and true loyalty — ■ 
 
 By these his soul was fired; 
 They marked him of earth 's royalty. 
 
 As one by Heaven inspired. 
 
 The nations may bequeath him 
 
 A fame the world calls great; 
 But we, we will just wreath him 
 
 Foi' tliose finer things of state; 
 And love of home and laughter, 
 
 For clean, refining song; 
 Oh! we'll miss him ever after. 
 
 This fighter of the wrong. 
 
 Theodore Roosevelt, twenty-sixth President of the 
 United States ; born Nov. 27, 1858 ; died Jan. 6, 1921. 
 
 59 
 
THE CALL OF THE ROAD 
 
 Why, man, you surel.v have a heart, 
 That's big and kind as any king's; 
 
 This ham and eggs and cnstard tart. 
 And coffee, cream and other things — 
 Say, this is great as great, by Jings ! 
 
 First time in weeks that I've been warm, 
 Or liad real vittles such as these ; 
 
 I ch'an forget tlie chilling stonn — 
 The rheuniatiz has left my knees. 
 And I could go to sleep with ease. 
 
 More coffee? Well, yes, I don't care, 
 Such feed would most excuse delays ; 
 
 What say? AVant me to stay right here! 
 You've work and food for all my days! 
 Ah, no ! Ill luck 's for him who stays. 
 
 Tliere is a call, when once you've heard. 
 To other calls dulls every sense; 
 
 A voice that lures you, like a bird. 
 From zone to zone with confidence — 
 Impels you on, you know not whence. 
 
 It comes to me when winds lilow soft. 
 And in the storm that numbs the blood; 
 
 'Tis in the star-sliine up aloft. 
 The dawn, the sunset's crimson flood. 
 As when the sea's in an angry mood. 
 
 'Tis in the meadows jeweled white. 
 In woods that piney smells impart; 
 
 'Tis in the Avhisperings of the night. 
 In dreams that through my slumbers dart, 
 And thrills anew my vagrant heart. 
 
 60 
 
■Yet oftenest it calls afar, 
 
 Beyond the blue horizon's rim; 
 
 Then swift I'm off, no steel can bar, 
 Nor hunger, cold, nor wearied limb, 
 Nor perils can the vision dim. 
 
 I've followed by far Cathay's wall; 
 I've trod the spicy marts of Ind; 
 
 Gazed on Teheran's spires tall. 
 
 And felt the spell Bagdad may bind 
 Upon the pleasure-loving mind. 
 
 Twelve times your country I have crossed; 
 The world around six times or more; 
 
 On every sea been tempest tossed. 
 And still I hear, from distant shore. 
 That call compelling as before. 
 
 What say? Why listen to the voice"? 
 Not best to be a rolling stone? 
 
 Ah, sir, in this I have no choice; 
 Not mine to do or let alone. 
 But on and on from zone to zone. 
 
 Yes, I'm a transient I'm aware. 
 Though why 'tis thus I cannot say ; 
 
 I only know I may not dare 
 
 To slight the call; perhaps some day 
 'Twill cease to lure me far away. 
 
 But now, each path, each winding road. 
 Casts o'er me its enchanting spell; 
 
 So I must leave 3^our kind abode. 
 To journey whither? Who can tell? 
 And now goodbye, a long farewell. 
 
 61 
 
EVENING ON THE RANCH 
 
 (The author begs leave to present his own 
 version of this subject.) 
 
 Bright Phoebus lingers in the West, 
 
 Before his plunge into the main; 
 And o'er the landscape, vale and crest. 
 
 The shades of evening come again. 
 
 Up from the river's leafy glade. 
 
 The dairy herd plods dusty trails; 
 
 Old Brindle leads the cavalcade, 
 
 Where milkers will till foaming pails. 
 
 O'er distant foothills comes the sound 
 Of bleating flocks and herder's call; 
 
 His skillful collies circle round. 
 Till all are safe in the corral. 
 
 Domestic fowls seek roosting place. 
 Dogs bark, the swine call to be fed. 
 
 And calves and colts run race on race 
 P]'er banished to their spacious shed. 
 
 From furrowed fields the plowboys wend. 
 Glad that the day has reached its close; 
 
 They to their tired teams attend. 
 
 E'er "clang" the supper call-bell goes. 
 
 Goose-herders break their wheatfield tryst. 
 And trappers who would gophers kill; 
 
 Squirrel pois'ners too are on the list. 
 And those who water ditches fill. 
 
 From orchard, vineyard and the field. 
 Thus gathers round a motley crew; 
 
 Eacli's for his Homeland* but all yield. 
 When Cheng brings in the mutton stew. 
 
 The foreman now can find no fault. 
 
 No urge to work with lusty will; 
 Though most, he swears, don't earn their salt. 
 
 They here display the highest skill. 
 
 62 
 
The repast o'er, some play at games, 
 Some chew or smoke dread nicotine; 
 
 Some fight old battles — frightful names, 
 Yet never battle have they seen. 
 
 Now, to tlieir bunks; all earth is still, 
 Save night jar's plaintive notes afar; 
 
 The orange blossoms fragrance spill, 
 
 'Neath moon's pale beam and twinkling star. 
 
 *(i. e. Each praises his native land.) 
 
 HATE STILL ABIDES 
 
 "Why was He slain?" a comrade asked, 
 As they the Cross passed by that day; 
 
 The other gazed, then made reply: 
 "He said 'hate should be put away.' 
 
 If that were done all creeds would fall. 
 No want of Heaven, no need of hell; 
 
 Attorneys then would surely starve. 
 Our learned judges too as well. 
 
 Our laws would all be swept away. 
 Ten thousand tomes in costly sheep, 
 
 Save one of plainly written rules. 
 
 Which all men everywhere would keep. 
 
 Then Labor would not have a grouch. 
 And Capital would guileless give; 
 
 Such things you know would never do, 
 For troublemakers have to live. 
 
 And so they hung Him to the cross, 
 His doctrine was so dangerous! 
 
 Thus we'll want Heaven, and hell is sure. 
 For hate will still abide with us." 
 
 63 
 
THE FIDDLER 
 
 Now comes the fiddler with his lay, 
 
 In coat of shining green, 
 To celebrate the harvest's close 
 
 And, antnmn's radiant sheen; 
 He plays from early morn till late 
 For all to hear if they but wait. 
 
 The Avlieat and barley have been stored, 
 The stubbled garth lies bare; 
 
 The harvest hands have gone away. 
 Birds flock through field and air ; 
 
 And now the fiddler has his chance. 
 
 And fairly makes his fiddle prance. 
 
 Domestic fowls oft strut around. 
 
 And kingbirds hover near; 
 But still he plays his meny tune 
 
 Nor has a thought of fear; 
 Though it be true he's often hid, 
 
 He spreads the joys of a catydid. 
 
 And so time runs, all things must fail; 
 
 He gives no heed nor care. 
 That soon his tune will be played out — 
 
 No music more he'll share; 
 May we, like him, not lack in trust 
 
 Yet play our tune as though we must. 
 
 64 
 
OMAR 
 
 Tlioii wert the prince of scoffers of tliy time, 
 Yea, of all time; none equalled, none surpassed 
 
 In slaying future lioi)e with golden rhyme, 
 Nor o'er the soul a bleaker darkness cast. 
 
 And thou with Horace didst applaud the cup. 
 
 Didst him excel in sacrilegious praise; 
 Didst make it god, this bacchanalian sup, 
 
 Though time and men have proven false thy lays- 
 Yet thou within didst dread the end of all. 
 
 Didst long to live beyond time's fitful verge; 
 Didst wish that blossoms on thy grave might fall — 
 
 Be not forgot when ended was thy dirge. 
 
 Thou couldst not dream the bane thou didst the race, 
 When those twin fallacies thou didst uphold; — 
 
 The sodden throngs who 'd live — die in disgrace, 
 By making Scripture of thy quatrains bold. 
 
 I would forgive thy fault with Christian grace, 
 If so't might be; but all thy monstrous wrong 
 
 Passed and to come e'en TJeav'n could not efface, 
 So deep the hurt of thine encrimsoned song. 
 
 But of thy wish, I may fulfill a part- 
 Cast on thy grave this humble tribute mine: 
 
 Oft have I sipped as sips the thirsty hart, 
 At thy clear stream and worslii]:)ped at thy shrine. 
 
 With rarest rapture, thanks to I'itz, I've quaffed. 
 And quaffed again a vintage sweeter far 
 
 Than beady wine, now but a banal draft; — 
 Thy song exhilerates, the themes but mar. 
 
 And if thy shade still wanders through wide space. 
 Still wearied, restless, on must roam. 
 
 May Heaven's pity grant thee dwelling place, 
 Where disembodied spirits are at home. 
 
 65 
 
JOAQUIN MILLER 
 
 The hills I clini]:)ed that autumn day 
 
 Lay browning- in the sun; 
 And, as I climbed, sad thoughts were mine 
 
 Of him wliose work was done; 
 Who'd struggled hard yet only found 
 That he must mingle with the ground. 
 
 xV lizard lazed beside the trail, 
 
 The bracken drooped, I ween, 
 Until I reached the wooded height 
 
 And viewed a broader scene; 
 And then I knew my musing wrong: 
 Though gone, he lives in work and song. 
 
 The eucalyptus whispered it, 
 
 TJie cassia waved and bowed; 
 The birds from barren hills came near 
 
 To sing his praise aloud; 
 For he had caused the wooded shade, 
 Where they could warble unafraid. 
 
 The grass had grown to wavy lengths, 
 
 The green bay greener grew; 
 The squirrels chirped, the rabbits leaped, 
 
 As though in honor due; 
 For he had given all he had 
 Of toil and song to make life glad. 
 
 He built so those with weary hearts 
 
 Might find unbought repose; 
 And, when refreshed, the battle face, 
 
 And think of — e're life's close — 
 The Christ who gave without a stint 
 To soften hearts though hard as flint. 
 
 66 
 
And he had found the keenest joy 
 Gemmed in Time's rounded plan: 
 
 Fought sham and wrong and selfish hate 
 As God's first call to man; 
 
 Won a reward none else may know, 
 
 And lives, while dust is every foe. 
 
 Oh, struggling soul! thou, too, sail on; 
 
 No fate nor foe can blast ; 
 If thou but in his footsteps go. 
 
 Reward must come at last; 
 For human hearts still seek the light. 
 And faith and love still win the rio-ht. 
 
 LONGING 
 
 Out of the night-mists a star. 
 Winging through eons unsum'd; 
 
 Sweeps to deep spaces afar, 
 To regions by mortals unplumb'd. 
 
 Whither, oh star in thy flight? 
 
 Whither, oh take me with thee ; 
 Give me to see by thy light. 
 
 The visions my heart longs to see. 
 
 Give me a place in thy beams — 
 Kinship by stellar decree ; 
 
 Then the fulfillment of dreams — 
 The verities waiting the free. 
 
 67 
 
INDUSTRY VS. DISPLAY 
 
 Tlio butterfly and the honey bee 
 
 Sat on the self same flower ; 
 ''You take life far too seriously," 
 The former said, "just look at me, 
 More fair than Sheba's queen to see, 
 
 With all her wealth and power. 
 
 I live to make a fine display. 
 
 For that's what life is for; 
 I gild my wings with morning's ray, 
 With rainbow colors, the sheen of May, 
 And thus will please the King some day, 
 
 For labor I abhor." 
 
 The bee, too busy to reply, 
 
 Kept steadily at work; 
 He searched each petal, low and high, 
 He gleaned the gold nor reasoned why. 
 But sought to glean most faithfully, 
 
 And ne'er be known to shirk. 
 
 Then came King World with royal train. 
 
 Reward was in his hand; 
 All gaudy show did he disdain. 
 For food he craved and, of the twain, 
 Gave to the bee the right to reign 
 
 As queen of all the land. 
 
 68 
 
OUR BROTHER 
 
 His mission was not fully plain, 
 
 Though he dwelt here in joy and pain; 
 
 Autocracy 's smug verbiage 
 
 Had throned Him king not reason's sage; 
 
 They armed Him with a vengeful sword 
 
 With speech and anger to accord, 
 
 To reign in matters of the spirit 
 
 And all things else construed as near it; 
 
 This when of rulers who'd oppress 
 
 We'd had enough, you must confess. 
 
 Then searching in a cob-webbed nook, 
 I found an ancient, unused book ; 
 And searching for some fact or other, 
 I learned, oh. joy ! He was our brother^ 
 Brother in toil that earns our bread. 
 Brother in pain of heart and head; 
 Brother by the foul rabble curst, 
 Brother to feel base slander 's worst. 
 
 He felt with us the look unkind. 
 
 The stab delivered from behind; 
 
 The wrong that's done through human hate 
 
 And cries aloud to Heaven's gate; 
 
 The perlidy of kiss and deed 
 
 Himself the crushed by t3a'ant creed; 
 
 Yet He bore all in patient mood 
 
 To show that God still understood. 
 
 And w^ould, i]i time, make light the load 
 
 Of all who faithful onward strode. 
 
 And then his mission was full plain; 
 Man needs a brother in toil and pain 
 To steady him in fortitude 
 To do his best with gratitude. 
 Though perfidy may do its worst, 
 Invoke e 'en death with the accurst ; 
 Brother, I take Thee to my arms. 
 Now, life nor death can have alarms. 
 
 69 
 
HIS DEED 
 
 He told of Heaven and its joys, 
 
 Its golden streets and peaceful rest; 
 
 So free from trouble that annoys 
 Here in this life e 'en at its best. 
 
 His eloquence quite charmed the ear, 
 And moved the soul to nobler heights ; 
 
 His silver tones themselves brought clieer- 
 A benediction of delights. 
 
 'Tis years since he was laid away. 
 
 And often I his name recall; 
 His sermons pass in dim array — 
 
 A kindly deed o'ershadows all. 
 
 'Twas chilly night, I, tilled with gloom. 
 Could nowhere find an open door; 
 
 He had, save in his heart, no room ; 
 I slept upon his kitchen floor. 
 
 'Tis true fair speech may travel far. 
 And often will supply a need; 
 
 But this I hold 'mong truths that are: 
 What lingers longest is the deed. 
 
 70 
 
A GLAD OLD WORLD 
 
 Oft when I'm straying* aloft on the mountain, 
 
 Where the breeze fans the brow crooning softly and 
 low; 
 
 Or when I am drinking at some bubbling fountain, 
 Where the cress and the mint and the jessamine grow; 
 
 There to my spirit this truth is unfurled; 
 
 Though men may mar it, 'tis a glad old world. 
 
 Down there below is the city's loud clatter, 
 
 Man's inhumanity rushing for gain; 
 Crushing the helpless and weak, 'tis no matter. 
 
 So they the high courts of Mammon attain; 
 Would they could see but this banner unfurled; 
 Though men may mar it, 'tis a glad old world. 
 
 See the abundance earth freely produces, 
 
 Plenty for all of the fat of the land; 
 Yet thousands must famish because of abuses 
 
 By profiteers grasping with merciless hand ; 
 Would they could see but this truth unfurled. 
 Though men may mar it, 'tis a glad old world. 
 
 71 
 
JACK CRACKER 
 
 They used to call him lazy Jack — 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 And said hard things behind his back, 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 Said he was shiftness and no good, 
 Because he never would saw wood. 
 Nor do hard work as they thought he should, 
 
 Jack Cracker. 
 
 They even called him poor white trash, 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 Because he never had the cash. 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 They named him unthrift's simile, 
 The antonym of the busy bee — 
 A man who never earned his tea, 
 
 Jack Cracker. 
 
 Meanwhile poor Jack began to fail, 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 At loss of character grew pale. 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 With friends and credit lost to view. 
 He thought for slander he should sue. 
 But was too weak the thing to do. 
 
 Jack Cracker. 
 
 In deep despair Jack sat the while. 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 Unable now to jest or smile, 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 
 72 
 
Life was a wretcliod round of care, 
 Of misery and rank despair, 
 From every angle harsh, unfair. 
 Jack Cracker. 
 
 Then science came and smiled on Jack, 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 Stopped all hard talk behind his back. 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 It found Jack 's body full of hooks — 
 A parasite not found in books. 
 Which was destroying strength and looks. 
 
 Jack Cracker. 
 
 And now Jack has the pulse of hope. 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 For doctors with the hooks can cope. 
 
 Jack Cracker; 
 Soon Jack can vindicate his name. 
 By winning at the working game. 
 And putting slanderers to shame, 
 
 Jack Cracker. 
 
 73 
 
STAR DUST 
 
 Nancy Campbell, Nanc}^ Campbell, ever since I saw your 
 
 face, 
 I have had a deep desire to come over to your place; 
 So I've come with some presumption and now that I am 
 
 here 
 I cannot speak the thoughts I have, I feel a little queer; 
 I had the words all sifted out and set in fine array. 
 But now that I look in your eyes they've gone like sheep 
 
 astray; 
 I meant that they should please you well, you'd kindly 
 
 think of me. 
 But now my ignorance is plain, my gross stupidity; 
 Of this you cannot have a doubt, it is a fatal lack, 
 So 1 will say farewell to you and trace my footsteps back. 
 
 No, Henry Dean, no, Henry Dean, 'tis early yet to go, 
 Perhaps if you should stay awhile the words again would 
 
 flow; 
 And I have heard that you can talk of science deep and 
 
 true, 
 Tell why the stars shine out at night, tell why the sky 
 
 is blue. 
 And now that they begin to peep and show their diamond 
 
 light, 
 I'd like to know why some are dull and some are always 
 
 bright. 
 Is it because that ^some are loved and some unloved have 
 
 been. 
 And left to shine alone at night, unnoticed and unseen? 
 And there's yon constellation, there's nothing more 
 
 would please 
 Than have you tell about it — about the pleiades. 
 
 74 
 
Nancy Campbell, Nancy Campbell, your suggestion 
 
 comes in time. 
 For now the words begin to come almost like flowing- 
 rhyme ; 
 I've made a study of the stars, of them I something know, 
 I notice them e ach evening as I travel too and fro ; 
 And some of t/iem have lent their sheen from their high 
 
 place above 
 To give the sparkle here to eyes just made I trow for 
 
 love ; 
 (I k]iow a pair that have the glow — of many stars the 
 
 shine, 
 I must not mention it I know, I'd like to call them mine;) 
 Ah, how the words k:eep rushing on, I hope they won't 
 
 displease. 
 Could you — oh, could you love one who too loves the 
 
 Pleiades"? 
 
 PROGRESS 
 
 Life is progress; deep and true. 
 Runs the Eternal Purpose through; 
 Results by sturdy effort brought, 
 Today by newer process wrought. 
 
 Perpetual adaptation binds. 
 To new conditions, keenest minds; 
 Apparent excellencies are 
 Discarded with mistakes that mar, 
 
 ADVANCE is e'er the watch word high, 
 And ways more intricate apply; 
 The vision new, new power obtains, 
 In every process, progress reigns. 
 
 75 
 
SMILE ON 
 
 When rank failure bids you grumble 
 
 And feel blue ; 
 Or investments take a tumble 
 
 And fall through; 
 When constrained to fret and worry, 
 Hustling ever in a hurry, 
 Better pause amidst the fluiTy, 
 
 And just smile, keep smiling on. 
 
 If storm-tossed and faith is failing. 
 
 As it may; 
 And your friends once true are railing. 
 
 Day by day; 
 If you cannot meet the payment, 
 Don't give way to harsh inveighment, 
 Put on hope like a new raiment, 
 
 And"" just smile, keep smiling on. 
 
 Does distress bring to you grieving. 
 
 With each breath ; 
 Health of self or loved one leaving. 
 
 As for death; 
 Still there's light beyond the gloaming, 
 Hope for weary hearts a-roaming, 
 If they'll keep from fretting-, foaming-. 
 
 And just smile, keep smiling on. 
 
 76 
 
HER LOVE NOTES 
 
 The fragrant winds sigh softly 
 
 The orange boughs among ; 
 They bring this cheer to my waiting ear, 
 A whispered cadence soft and clear, 
 
 Like the love-notes in her song. 
 
 Beneath this tree a-trysting, 
 
 The honrs like moments fled ; 
 The words we sung, were just new sprung 
 To live in hearts forever young — 
 
 Long as true hearts shall wed. 
 
 'Twas in the time of blossoms, 
 
 Ah ! I remember well ; 
 For she would wear some petals fair 
 From off the tree whose fragrance rare 
 
 Her kisses only could excel. 
 
 And then— but life is fleeting. 
 
 Be still, oh aching heart! 
 The bloom she wore I saw no more 
 When off her precious form they bore 
 
 Of earth to be a part. 
 
 And now where 'er my roaming, 
 
 I come when the blossoms throng. 
 For the fragrance here and to catch the cheer 
 Of the whispered cadence soft and clear. 
 Like the love-notes in her song. 
 
 77 
 
WASHINGTON 
 
 The years but add a brighter glow, 
 
 Give him a truer fame, 
 Who struck for Liberty the blow — 
 
 Enthroned her with acclaim; 
 Oh ! Washington, our Washington, 
 
 God armed thee for the fray. 
 In simple, stainless, robust worth. 
 To lift the murk of tyrant earth. 
 
 That Freedom might have sway. 
 
 As from some barbican of time, 
 
 His vision streamed afar; 
 Heard the oppressed from every clime 
 
 Cry for an Avatar ; 
 Oh! Washington, our Washington, 
 
 God raised thee from the throng 
 To do the deed when great the need 
 To free from crushing tyrant's greed 
 
 And help the weak to be strong. 
 
 At the full stroke of Aeon's knell. 
 
 He bravely took command ; 
 Exposed his breast to shot and shell 
 
 Our country 's chains to rend ; 
 Oh ! Washington, our Washington, 
 
 God guided thee aright. 
 Kept thee unharm'd, Hephaestus charm 'd, 
 Until the foe was whipped, disarm 'd, 
 
 And Freedom's law was might. 
 
 But oh, the heart-ache and the toil. 
 
 The hunger and the cold! 
 All was endured to free the soil 
 
 And Freedom's flag unfold; 
 
 78 
 
Oh ! Washington, our Washington, 
 
 Our hearts are grateful still. 
 Thy worthy name we now proclaim 
 With highest honor, noblest fame, 
 For workins' Freedom's will. 
 
 ^?^ 
 
 Can we, oh, can we e'er forget 
 
 The struggle and the cost ! 
 The flag that with our blood was wet, 
 
 May it e'en now be lost? 
 Oh ! Washington, our Washington, 
 
 God rot the traitor hand, 
 That seeks to mar a stripe or star. 
 While waves the flag where true hearts are. 
 
 Thou gavest to our land. 
 
 LEONTION 
 
 She walks — of all the girls I know, 
 
 A princess 'mongst the charming many; 
 
 Fairer than fair as maidens go. 
 Without a fault — or hardly any. 
 
 Of noblest traits she has full store, 
 That are to lovely maid befitting; 
 
 She bids me stay and talk some more, 
 When in the hammock we are sitting. 
 
 Modest of mien yet glad and gay, 
 She shows that I add to her pleasure; 
 
 Happy I'll be when comes the day, 
 That I mav claim her for mv treasure. 
 
 79 
 
THEY SEE THE KING 
 
 All souls of earth seek happiness, 
 
 But only they shall find, 
 Who have the burning zeal of faith, 
 
 And an exalted mind. 
 
 Not true a cat may see the king; 
 
 It only sits and glares; 
 It sees in terms of feline wants, 
 
 In common with the bears. 
 
 They see the king who are possess 'd 
 
 Of kingly qualities; 
 Of courage, honor, graciousness. 
 
 The true humanities. 
 
 So they who find true happiness, 
 
 Have qualities of mind, 
 To feel the calm and peaceful glow, 
 
 And know it when tliev find. 
 
 80 
 
THY WORK IS THY REWARD 
 
 AVouldst know thy fate, oli gallant youth, 
 Thou who wouklst boost the world along? 
 So eager thou, so filled with zeal, 
 To lift mankind from woe to weal, 
 To its best self, its sorrows heal, 
 Thou may'st not see the sordid truth. 
 For vision of the victor's song. 
 
 Thou canst indeed help give it speed. 
 
 This world, along the lanes of toil ; 
 
 But 'tis decreed no victor's song 
 
 Nor laurel shall to thee belong; 
 
 Thou 'It be forgot, the thoughtless throng 
 
 Will pass thee by, nor little heed 
 
 Who helped them from the ninck and moil. 
 
 Yet halt not in thy noble quest. 
 
 Nor for reward too closely scan ; 
 
 For though the world may on thee frown, — 
 
 The speed thou givest help pull thee down— 
 
 Thy work for thee will be a crown — 
 
 Will glad thy heart as of the best 
 
 Who've walked the eartli — a God-like man. 
 
 81 
 
AT PANAMA 
 
 (December, 1899) 
 
 At Panama, when the sun sinks low. 
 And purple shadows fall amain, 
 
 A thousand phantoms come and go, 
 A thousand rovers live again — 
 
 Adventurers on conquest bound, 
 
 Who once made this their stamping ground. 
 
 That pirate age again returns. 
 And law is force, the sword is law ; 
 
 The corsair who most cities burns 
 
 Wins highest stakes which one may draw, 
 
 And slaughterers of friendly host, 
 
 Though honor's dead, are honored most. 
 
 A continent Fate holds in pawn. 
 
 Great empires wait for him who'll take; 
 Bold buccaneers strive for a tlirone 
 
 Though bloody be the path they make. 
 And some will win where all should lose 
 Who life's most precious gifts abuse. 
 
 Davila comes with sturdy band 
 
 To found a city in the West ; 
 Aeneas-like he view^s the land, 
 
 Then builds his walls to stand the test 
 Of troublous times, yet naught avails 
 'Gainst the freebooter who assails. 
 
 Pizarro comes in stress of need, 
 
 Monk Luque gives him wished-for aid; 
 
 The miscreant forgets the deed, 
 Ingratitude's the coin repaid; 
 
 For honesty and noble worth 
 
 Seem banished from the bleeding earth. 
 
 Dread Morgan sails the Spanish Main, 
 His name is cause for whispered fear, 
 
 A thousand prayers are said in vain. 
 For now his ships are anchored near 
 
 And Panama lies sacked and still, 
 
 A victim of the victor's will. 
 
 82 
 
Off yonder rides the Golden Hind, 
 
 Her skipper's had his dream come true; 
 
 He's plowed Balboa's sea to find 
 More riches than Golconda knew; 
 
 Today in Porto Bello's deep, 
 
 Drake's body is consigned to sleep. 
 
 And so they come and so they go ; 
 
 Revolt and riot too have sway. 
 Till dawn's fair light begins to glow 
 
 And pirate visions tlee away; 
 Cathedral bells smite on the ear, 
 Night's lustful prowlers disappear. 
 
 Now gaze upon the leaning walls, 
 The broken tower, the rutted stone, 
 
 The heritage that still recalls 
 
 That vicious age now^ hapl}^ gone. 
 
 When e'en the cross was made to bless 
 
 The dastard deeds of the conscienceless. 
 
 Go where the dead are sepulchered; 
 
 Outside its holy walls are thrown 
 The bones of those once there interred 
 
 In rotting heaps, their names unknown ! 
 Were these defenders in the strife 
 Of love and home and precious life ! 
 
 Fair Panama, of varied fame ! 
 
 Thou'st suffered to the dregs, I ween; 
 Time's horiscope would still acclaim 
 
 A brighter sky than yet has been ; 
 For Destiny knows no defeat — 
 Will yet enroll thee 'mong the great. 
 
 83 
 
SERVICE 
 
 The rose that was so fondly cherished, 
 Spread forth its bloom but for a day; 
 
 Yet ere from wintry breath it perished, 
 Shed all around its fragrance sweet as May. 
 
 The sturdy oak anear the village, 
 
 With broken boughs yet upright form; 
 
 Still fends the blasts from gentler tillage, 
 Patient to breast each hurtling storm. 
 
 So each, though humble be his mission — 
 Unfelt the thrill of popular acclaim; 
 
 May know the joy of glad fniition, 
 In duty's meads and worthy aim. 
 
 84 
 
THE LAND OF THE CONTENTED HEART 
 
 I wandered long, I searched afar, 
 The Land of Happiness to find ; 
 
 Was it a myth of earth or star, 
 
 Just meant for flight of thought 's swift car, 
 
 Not to be reached but sadly mar 
 
 Such joys as bless poor humankind! 
 
 No, I have found this Paradise, 
 
 Though not engrossed on star-blazed chart ; 
 Within the reach of all it lies. 
 By homely hearth, neath changing skies, 
 Ai)d labeled by the good and wise, 
 
 The Land of the Contented Heart. 
 
 This land is rich in gifts not gold. 
 
 Not ermine robes nor gems of art ; 
 But fabrics rarely bought or sold. 
 In friends whose worth cannot be told. 
 In verdant meadows, mountains bold — 
 This Ijand of the Contented Heart. 
 
 Its many charms I find so rare, 
 
 That I shall never more depart ; 
 It gives of health a goodly share. 
 Food, raiment, shelter and to spare. 
 The love of those most dear and fair — 
 This Land of the Contented Heart. 
 
 It grants success in fair degree — 
 
 For God helps those who do their part — 
 
 Books and a garden fair to see; 
 
 The dreaded things pass harmlessly; 
 
 Holds joys untasted still for me — 
 This Land of the Contented Heart. 
 
 85 
 
DUTY— TRUST— HONOR 
 
 Sentinel, thy duty do 
 
 Though unhonored be thy lot; 
 Thine to guard by valor true 
 
 Though the deed be soon forgot. 
 
 Sentinel, thy trust fulfill 
 
 Though forgotten at thy post; 
 
 Thine the noblest virtue still 
 Faith to keep with sleeping host. 
 
 Sentinel, no peril shun, 
 Foes can but the body kill ; 
 
 Honor lost is ne'er rewon — 
 Lives for aye dishonor still. 
 
 S6 
 
MY DOG 
 
 I never knew from whence he came, 
 That liomely little dog of mine ; 
 
 I only know that sick and lame, 
 
 Without a friend, without a name. 
 
 Or anything to give him fame, 
 
 I found him most too weak to whine. 
 
 He saw me pause, then tried his best. 
 
 To crawl up to me where I stood ; 
 One effort and he had to rest, 
 His wounds hurt so ; one on his breast. 
 Was bleeding still like all possess 'd. 
 And oh, how much he needed food. 
 
 Then as I saw him suffer, oh ! 
 
 It made my angry passions rise; 
 I wanted but the chance to show 
 The human wretch by blow on blow. 
 Just what it meant to suffer so — 
 
 To treat God's creatures in this wise. 
 
 I picked him up with tender care. 
 And took him gently home with me ; 
 
 I dressed his wounds, gave him a share 
 
 Of food and warmth and kindness where 
 
 Before he only had for fare 
 The deepest kind of cruelty. 
 
 When he got well a truer frienci, 
 Man never had upon this earth ; 
 
 His gratitude was without end. 
 
 He'd fetch for me and at command. 
 
 Attack a foe, my home defend. 
 
 Proud for the chance to be of worth. 
 
 Yes, he's as homely as a rag. 
 
 His tail is kinked and homely too; 
 But I would rather trust its wag. 
 Than all the boasts of men who brag, 
 Of friendship, country and the flag. 
 But never prove their friendship true. 
 
 87 
 
NIGHT'S MYSTERY 
 
 I wander oft, companion of the night, 
 Along the trails that lead to mountain height ; 
 By shrouded trees or 'neatli the open sky 
 To hear the whisperings of night's mystery. 
 
 The varied twinklings of the friendly stars. 
 Far from the noisy street or aught that mars ; 
 The moonbeams with their tender light serene 
 Send happy tlioughts as of close friends between. 
 
 And this the mystery, the message plain, 
 
 As I return to Orange Bower again : 
 
 Too much of sun as well as Heaven's pure light 
 
 Must filtered be to bear by earth-born wight. 
 
FAIR PLAY 
 
 * ' You must capture Pliiloctetes, ' ' 
 
 Says the crafty Ulysses; 
 "Use the wiliest deception, 
 
 And his might you'll match with ease." 
 
 Then obeys Neoptolenms, 
 
 To his prince a faithful youth ; 
 
 Feigns sincerity of friendship — 
 Wins success at cost of truth. 
 
 But above the joy of conquest, 
 
 Speaks an inner monitor; 
 Shows the baseness of his method — 
 
 Ways that honest men abhor. 
 
 Then repents he of his action, 
 
 Bow and arrows he returns ; 
 And his pride to take the exile 
 
 Back to Troy in triumph, spurns. 
 
 Ulysses, the prince, derides him. 
 But the braA^e youth will not quail; 
 "I would rather, acting nobly. 
 Fail than basely to prevail." 
 
 89 
 
ODE TO MOTHERHOOD 
 
 Hatlior, since I thy form observed 
 On pillared stone where it was carved, 
 That all might of thy prowess learn — 
 Obedient might thy favor earn— 
 My clarion sounds its highest praise 
 For those who lived in those far days, 
 Who worshiped thee among the good. 
 Thou Goddess of fair Motherhood ! 
 
 Thou wert the first to have the grace 
 To honor niothei's of the race; 
 To show all else of little worth 
 Unless the mothers gave us birth ; 
 Though dynasties have come and gone, 
 Full fifty centuries were thine own; 
 And though thou art now near forgot. 
 The realm of motherhood is not. 
 
 So near forgot yet lingering 
 Are praiseful words they used to sing; 
 *'The Lady of the Turquoise" thou, 
 A title that would charm e'en now^; 
 How often bowed the wistful maid ! 
 How many a mother sought thy aid. 
 As down the centuries there ran 
 The multiplying race of man ! 
 
 Far greater wert than Egypt's queen 
 In splendor's robe of purple sheen, 
 And fascinating gaze that won 
 World-conquering Caesar for her own; 
 Or Bilkis gracing Sheba's crown 
 And gifts which spread her high renown. 
 When she proved Israel's king a sage — 
 Wrote high her name on Time's own page. 
 
 90 
 
For what are rank and hii»-h renown, 
 The royal robe or jeweled crown, 
 The gifts of wealth or Beauty's face 
 Compared with bearers of the race ! 
 Though Wisdom's Lamp illume the height 
 Till all the worhl might see the light, 
 How feeble still compared with this : 
 A mother's love, a mother's kiss! 
 
 Old goddesses have had their day, 
 A better kind are here to stay ; 
 I see them daily with delight — 
 The mothers with a crown of light; 
 This world indeed would l)e quite drear. 
 If they should fail to bless and cheer ; 
 And this I say, each one I see, 
 ''She's goddess quite enough for me." 
 
 91 
 
HE SMILED GOOD-MORNING 
 
 He smiled " Good-moriiiiig " as the day 
 
 Rushed on with noisy tread ; 
 And in my heart there sprang a lay 
 That sang- through toil and business fray 
 And eased the harshness of the way 
 
 Till all the hours had sped. 
 
 I felt the cheer of lark's glad note 
 
 Nor paused to reason why ; 
 No time for thought, near or remote, 
 For puff and blow from noisy throat 
 Of rushing train and speeding boat, 
 
 As they my work brought nigh. 
 
 And then began the daily grind 
 
 As all days of the year; 
 The pouch of mail — its tone was kind. 
 The grouch, it seemed, had changed his mind, 
 Though men were frank, they were refined 
 
 And wrote with quiet cheer. 
 
 At eve, I sat in easy chair 
 
 And said: This day was fine; 
 It was the wheat that waved so fair. 
 Or glint of tree-tops high in air, 
 Or sky close bending azure rare. 
 
 That eased the burdens mine. 
 
 But still sang on some pleasant thought, 
 
 Some mem 'ry would review ; 
 Was it some peal of anthem caught. 
 Some deed well done, some business wrought, 
 Ah, no; it was what came unbought; 
 
 Friend, 'twas that smile from you. 
 
 92 
 
SELF'S DOMAIN 
 
 The seer said "myself am hell," 
 
 A truth to bear in mind; 
 Self is the only prison cell, 
 
 That can forever bind. 
 
 Though time and fate and custom frown, 
 And foes would thwart the goal ; 
 
 Fair Freedom's jewel will him crown. 
 Who's captain of his soul. 
 
 There are no thrones in eartli or space, 
 Where gods Olympian reign; 
 
 But he may win with worthy grace, 
 AVho's king of self's domain. 
 
 93 
 
RETURN, RETURN 
 
 I would not ask yoii to return 
 
 As tliouy-h the wish were wholly mine; 
 For all around there's call and yearn 
 
 For something that was wholly thine. j 
 
 A presence that would g'lad the birds, 
 Whose songs are mournful all the day; 
 
 The river, too, too dull for words. 
 Again would sing its roundelay. 
 
 The orange trees' neath which we walked, 
 AVhich showered fragrance sw^eetly through, 
 
 While we of all life's beauty talked, 
 Are sadly waiting too for you. 
 
 The garden paths lie strangely still, 
 
 The latch-siring waits your magic hand, 
 
 Where love came tripping at your will 
 And lived in time's enchaiited land. 
 
 A silence falls at evening's close. 
 The sun sinks lonely o'er the range; 
 
 The moon's pale beam no friendship sIioavs 
 The stars dim-smoulder at the change. 
 
 The poppies fade upon the hill. 
 The heliotrope sheds no ])erfume; 
 
 The ringdoves sigh nor coo nor bill 
 And wander aimless from their home. 
 
 For these and all you must return. 
 To liven them with pleasure's glow; 
 
 They must no longer pine and yearn 
 Nor hunger for your presence so. 
 
 Dull care will then no more intrude 
 When your form enters at the door; 
 
 You'll smile awa^^ this solitude 
 
 And mv dead heart will live once more. 
 
 94 
 
 < 
 
LOVERS 
 
 I saw the sea from the iiioiiiitain, 
 I saw her from a near hill ; 
 She had the charm of color, 
 She had the silence of intimacy, 
 She had the fascination of motion, 
 And she beckoned to me. 
 
 She beckoned to me as a lover; 
 
 Come hither, come hither, light-hearted, 
 
 Come hither son of perfection, 
 
 Come hither consin Protens, 
 
 And join me in revelry. 
 
 I went down to her boudoir, 
 Where she rarely allows intrusion; 
 But her salutatioii frightened me. 
 It was so effusive, boisterous, 
 I was scarce equal to it. 
 
 I grew bolder, (1 hate a h^iggard); 
 
 She told me her secrets — 
 
 The ways of her endearments, 
 
 The fei'vor of her love, 
 
 The strength of her affection, 
 
 And I reciprocated. 
 
 She threw her white arms around me. 
 She embraced me rapturously. 
 She anointed me with her green beauty; 
 On her bosom she caressed me. 
 Tossing and swaying with delight — 
 I knew I had found my great Love. 
 
 Now I can scarcely endure separation — 
 
 All my thoughts are fixed on her; 
 
 When away, I hasten to return. 
 
 All my dreams are dreams of her; 
 
 I am a lover of the sea. 
 
 Of the effusive, boisterous, sea. 
 
 95 
 
BY THE FEATHER 
 
 River of destiny, flowing majestic 'ly, 
 
 Placidly onward through monntain and plain; 
 
 Oh, how the heart of me clings to the heart of thee, 
 Trav'lers afar, we return not again. 
 
 I would know this of thee : What is the mystery 
 Of this strange essence by man yclept life; 
 
 In the mad hum of it, what is the sum of it, 
 Joys frought with struggle, its peace mar'd by strife' 
 
 "This the amenity brings me serenity, 
 
 Joys of performance unheeded of man; 
 Not for the sound of it, do I my round of it. 
 But for ni}^ part in the Omniscient Plan. " 
 
 96 
 
WHAT MOUNTAINS TELL 
 
 I love the grave old mountains, 
 Though grim their forms appear; 
 
 And none would own their rocks so brown, 
 So frowning, bleak and bare. 
 
 With zest I climb their pathways, 
 
 Or rest upon their crown ; 
 For there aloft the winds blow soft, 
 
 Vav from the heated town. 
 
 O'er thoughtful contemplation, 
 
 They cast a glamour 'd spell; 
 Of aeons old of tales untold. 
 
 Of heat sans parallel. 
 
 How Vulcan's Titan smithy 
 
 Forged out their rugged peaks; 
 
 What hammers rang, what anvils sang. 
 The wondrous work bespeaks. 
 
 And now in aged grandure. 
 
 They stand earth's bulwarks strong; 
 And year by year unmoved they hear 
 
 The storm-king's siren song, 
 
 I muse till thoughts most wistful 
 
 Well up and fill my soul; 
 For tell who can both mount and man 
 
 Are part of the Great Whole. 
 
 And so I love the mountains. 
 
 For this to me they tell: 
 Whate'er our forms we'll fear no stomas, 
 
 For all is ordered well. 
 
 97 
 
INSPIRED TO DUTY 
 
 To all accustomed toil and care 
 
 Give pause that we, these mounds beside, 
 
 May scatter flow'rs, o'er each a share. 
 Who 've passed beyond life 's fitful tide. 
 
 This tribute to their dust we give — 
 God keeps his own — they need it not; 
 
 But that the fragrance, while we live, 
 Of their dear mem'ries be not forgot. 
 
 Since last this loving rite we paid. 
 
 New thousands have death's vantage gained; 
 While we, in earth's dim-lighted shade. 
 
 Are from the Greater Light restrained. 
 
 The earth lies numbed from war's dread blight. 
 Yet leaves this rose above the mold: 
 
 Men's souls are cleansed by righteous fight 
 Of all their dross to shining gold. 
 
 These are not buried in the earth, 
 Within the Nation's heart they lie; 
 
 Enshrined as of immortal birth 
 In valor's deeds that cannot die. 
 
 They rest with those of Sixty-One, 
 Of Seventy-Six and Twelve secure; 
 
 Our brave and true, their warfare done. 
 That Freedom might alway endure. 
 
 From obscure region they have moved 
 
 To hist'ry's shrine; tliere, 131'aiseful meeds. 
 
 Engraved, will bless them we so loved 
 
 Long as Time's scroll marks worthy deeds. 
 
 98 
 
How precious thus, their dust a-near, 
 To catch a glimpse of fulfilled dream! 
 
 To mingle speech of them so dear 
 Who gave life's purpose a holier gleam! 
 
 Now to all memories sacred here, 
 These tributes of our love we spread; 
 
 And consecrate the coming year. 
 Inspired to duty by our dead. 
 
 AT YOSEMITE 
 
 Amidst the dreams of matter and of space, 
 
 I've traveled far along the varied trails 
 
 Of God's own footstool and His universe; 
 
 Have heard His deep yet gentle whisperings 
 
 Appealingly in many a sun-bright spot. 
 
 Where songbirds trilled amidst the orange breath 
 
 Of groves with Hesper's fruit full laden 
 
 And the grape and fig gave pleasing comfort. 
 
 And on the waving hills, where the heliotrope 
 Spread sacred incense and the poppy's bloom 
 Beamed glad-ej^ed beauty while the canon thrush. 
 With swelling throat and bursting joy, 
 Poured out her notes in praiseful melody; 
 The kiss of Heav'n was on the lips of earth 
 And made it sweet to worship and rejoice 
 In all His goodness with high ecstasy. 
 
 Once more, with pilgrim staff and slioon. 
 My feet have reached a sacred shrine — 
 Sacred because the Maker of great worlds 
 Here left a bit of planet quite unsmoothed 
 
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That men miglit glimpse His majesty and power, 
 Where cliff mounts cliff until the eye 
 In terror seeks the earth in deep humility; 
 All within that is reverent and profound 
 Mounts dominant in wonder and amaze. 
 Again 'tis meet to worship and exult, 
 
 Now, not with ecstacy, but that solemn joy 
 
 Which plumbs the soul and stirs the crypts of being; 
 
 Here you may sense the pulse of the Almighty 
 
 And hear articulate His undertones, 
 
 E'en midst a rabble of unthinking wights 
 
 Babbling of wheels and gears and the demon Speed, 
 
 Or some profaner of the Throb called Life, 
 
 And see naught else in all the universe. 
 
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