BYy' THE BAY ^ Class ^-^iSLiiCllL Rook 'Af^^Ar^s - Copyright]^" /?0? COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. BY THE BAY BY THE BAY By LUCIA ETTA LORING (SMITH) THE FRONTISPIECE FROM A BAS-RELIEF MODELED BY BRADETTA L. SMITH PAUL ELDER &^ COMPANY PUBLISHERS . SAN FRANCISCO The author desires to acknowledge the courtesy extended by The Sunset Magazine, Overland Monthly and Once a Week, in granting permis- sion to reprint several of the poems included in this little volume. Copyright, 1909 pC-. -, ^^-^ n by Lucia E.Loring( Smith) • ^ With argent tintings of the softest sheen, A witchery transforms the present view, And veils it in a gossamer so new That shadowy as a dream all things are seen, Yet bright beneath an amethystine screen, — And life takes on again a hopeful hue. Illusively the fancies of a past Flit to and fro within the silver gloom. And smooth the edges of the present woes : The leaden burdens of the day we cast Into the radiant pathway of the moon, And, lion-hearted, seek a cheered repose. 11 IN THE SHADOW^ nIKE some dream of a vanished love- time, All phantom-like, dim and gray, Is the misty Bay and the mountains At the close of the summer day, Enwrapped in the world of shadows Unreal as some alien shore, And sad as the smile of a lover Who is beloved no more. 12 THE TW^O MOUNTAINS 'BOVE the Bay two mountains rise And pierce the fog-line of the skies. The Maiden sleeps with restful face Outlined against the blue of space. So has she slept for many a year Nor feared Diablo frowning near. She takes the stranger to her breast, And shows a land with plenty blest. Diablo with a mighty ire Holds to his heritage of fire. He strews obstructions at his feet, The ardent climber to defeat ; W^ith haughty bluntness claims his own, And watches, from the clouds, alone. 13 W^HEN PORTOLA came ^-«-^HEN Portola first came, he tore m I ^ The veil of an obscurity V I ^ From this Bay country's gracious ^^ shore, And gave it to a seeking world In all its virgin purity. His eyes beheld what now^ we see. The joy he felt holds endless sway Of pulsing pride in countless hearts ; For w^hat he claimed is ours, today. The veil of his obscurity We rent for our fiesta gay. 14 THE ETERNAL VERDURE 'UNNY slopes with wild oats waving, Starred with blue and glints of gold, In your soft insistent raving Do you mourn for days of old. When the feet of vanished padres Trod your green unbroken way, And Don Gaspar, gazing o'er you, Saw the shining distant Bay ? All those mighty ones, historic, Long have slept in earthly graves. But the green eternal verdure In the breeze still proudly waves. 15 TAMALPAIS " Only man knows discontent." 'RE you mourning in your sleep, maiden mountain, That you drape your head in grays ? Is it thought of other days That have fled their destined ways But to vanish into spray in Time's fountain ? Like Van Winkle, in the tale, would you waken ? Does the tread of climbing feet Cause your waiting heart to beat As when once the footsteps fleet Of the Indian hunter trod in the bracken ? I am answered as I gaze, and upbraided, For the gray gloom rolls away. Moving slowly toward the Bay, And your sun-lit slopes display Green content with the depths purple-shaded. 16 A QUESTION ^-™-^HY still keep the name for our beautiful m ■ ^ flower 1 ■ ^ Of one who 's not seen it since that early VlX hour, "When the Russian ship Rurick was here in our Bay, In sight of hills, poppy-hued, just as today ? Why from Dr. Eschscholtz not the honor reclaim, Though Camisso, his friend, did establish the name? It 's not spelt phonetic ; it cannot be sung ; It 's an indrawn breath and a sneeze, in one : Eschscholtzia. The old Spanish name, when the century was young, Like liquid gold, musically, flow^ed from the tongue. This name was descriptive of shape and of hue. Of the country's great wealth, and prosperity due. 'T was a name that was royal, and fitting as dower For a royally tinted, a queen-poppy flower ! It makes her a-kin to our old missions gray, Our mountains, and rivers, our towns, when we say : Copa de Ore. 17 COPA DE ORO OF FLO^A/'ERS, a matchless one! Nurtured by fog and sun, Seeded from golden sand Dropped from the miner's hand, Thou hast in silken fold Blended the red and gold Of skies, when suns belate Drop through the Golden Gate. Hearted with Spanish flame, Goblet of gold, thy name, Cling to the foothill's side Strong in thy glorious pride. Thou hast the richest ore, Found on this golden shore. 18 EL CAMINO REAL CHE Royal Highway follows the shore, One day's length from each Mission door; A phantom roadw^ay, when day has sped, For it echoes to the patient tread Of gowTied ones who rest and pray Where moonlit ruins mark the way. Their flitting shadows rest a while 'Neath crumbling arch devoid of tile. While others at each new^ bronze bell Send back a peal that all is well. If you would tread this King's Highway, It 's free to all throughout the day, But those who have a better right, The phantom fathers, pass by night. 19 THE OLD GUITAR- PLAYER IN A comer dim, on an old guitar, As on its strings she played. Forgotten memories came to life In the old adobe's shade. Remembered songs had a wondrous power, As her thin brown fingers strayed, For on the strings of my heart, alas, Not on the guitar, she played. With dancing rhythm the fantasy Of old fiestas came to me. All that had lived, and loved, and died. Once sweet and gay with Spanish pride. Now lived, and throbbed, and passed away, W^hile on those chords her fingers lay. I'd give — if but to be once more — A string has snapped. The dream is o'er. 20 THE SPANISH DANCER SCARLET skirt with a glittering band. Black velvet bodice, and gay fringed sash, A jaunty bolero, and fan in hand, And a fragrant rose with a crimson flash Peeping out from behind the filmy lace That half-reveals, half-hides her face. It 's nothing new to you. Her dark eyes glow with youthful fire, While arching feet now tap, now trip, Two graceful arms wave high and higher At lithesome bending from the hip ; Kneeling, bending, leaping quick To the castanets' gay click. It 's nothing new to you. A whirl of skirts and flash of red, The music stops with lingering hiss As soft as her remembered kiss, The saucy Spanish sprite has fled. But underneath the bodice gay She hides the heart she 's danced away. It 's something new to you. 21 TO A FIELD OF ESCHSCHOLTZIAS fi ARE sunset flowers of fiery hue, blending The crimson and gold of the day that is ending, You seeded from dust through pioneer fingers To be a reminder of glory that lingers. When through the Gold Gate the red sun is sinking. You close your petals like sleepy eyes blinking, A message you nod with haughty grace swajdng Your slender green stem with the weight of the saying. 22 THE PRESSED FLOWT^R CHE faded flower in the yellowed book, In its dry flatness treasures not one look Of airy grace, on slender stem once bent. But from the dried reminder floats a scent, So delicate but still so real, so fine, The picture of that summer field's fair view Rises in clearest outline — And I dream of you. 23 ON THE HILL ©HERE are strange sweet sounds when the day is o'er, The sleepy call of the brooding bird, The lisp of the insect, and the blurred Distant murmur from many a door ; The evening hymn of mingled cheer Is a harmony good for the soul to hear. 24 THE PAUSE ^-p-^HEN the Day is reminiscent, and her gauzy W I ^ blue and red 1 ■ F Drapes about the throat of evening when ^JL^ the summer sun has sped, All the world that cares to listen hears the pausing of her heart. Like the weary soul that lingers half-reluctant to depart, Or the wave that pauses, poising, on the margin of the sand; 'T is the faltering of all things ere they seek the Never Land. 25 THE SECRET a FOGGY sky with a stain of red, Grim houses guarding a down-hill street, And a secret sad in a friend's gray life, Makes the world like a cloistered retreat. 26 DEMI-JOUR OARK hilly masses form a frieze Against the silver sky, And through the jetty spurs of trees The flower of night draws nigh ; The creamy blossom of a moon With essence of a lotus bloom. As one more day swings to the past Recalled dreams of life come fast. 27 A NOCTURNE a SPRING nocturne of green and gold, Vivid fields with cowslips starred, The sky with rose and violet barred Where moves a clear moon, slim and cold. A purple mist and turquoise deep Driving the ochre shine away, And a stretch of livid gleaming Bay. Beyond the rust-brown house-roof steep On a cowslip hill is a leafy tree, "With dark cool shadows, moonlight tipped. And there a maid, so tender-lipped, Is waiting alone for me. 28 'THE ONE STAR" CHE deep blue pool of a summer sky- Is bounded by vague gray hills, afar, And in the blue is a single star. " The one star," a poet once said. But sweetheart and poet sleep with the dead, Yet his dream of the star will not die. 29 PORTOLA XF FROM that strange mysterious bourne The early governor could return, And standing on the hills afar Hear everywhere of Portold, Would sometimes glints of mighty ire Show in his dark eyes' glorious fire To hear from cities by the Bay Of Porto'la and Por'tola? Or would he smile, content to see The glory of his memory? 30 THE DESERTED CABIN XL MATTED lie the damp dead leaves On sodden paths unmarred by feet, The dust-grimed windows' shrouded gaze Obscures an emptiness complete. The rude hearth where home-fires burned Is cold, and gray with ash upturned. But through the mass of matted leaves Some blades of tender green upspring ; The tangled garden growth is warm With hint of bud and flowering thing ; And round the cabin windows twine The scarlet buds of passion vine. 31 THE LURE OF THE W^IND ON MOUNTAIN top, at close of day, I gaze on billowy trees, I hear the rushing of the wind, like tide of coming seas ; Far down below, and miles away, break waves in foamy lines, But echoing over waving trees, I hear the roar of pines. W^ith palsied age the white-oaks shake, resisting with their might ; The red Madrones, like Spain's coquettes, flirt with the changing light ; The tasselled Redwoods, sensitive to lightest gasp of breeze. Are quivering with a tender grace amid the mass of trees. Above, around, below me swells the rising, restless tide, The siren call of mountain wind. Desire at her side. Dry leaves are gathering near my feet, in pressure, close and strong; But I am of the earth no more ; I hear the luring song. 32 The damp, sweet breath of woods upstirs beneath my restless tread In protest, eloquent but vain — I go where dreams are bred ; Those dreams of joy, exalted, pure, that on the heights abide. My soul upon the wild wind soars, subservient to that tide. 33 THE RIVAL fi 'LASHING of yellow and dash of red, Swinging rebosa and flirt of head, I see you coming with dancing feet To where the shadows kiss as they meet, Querida, my querida (beloved) ! To my embraces swiftly you run. Red-cheeked amoura, joyous-eyed one ! The breath of rapture, love meeting flame, As soft your warm lips whisper my name, Querida, my querida ! Clinging the closer, your lips on mine, I am soon drunken with love's sweet wine, Blindfold, enravished, and deaf to all fear As long, beloved, as you are near, Querida, my querida ! Keen is his anguish, noiseless his hate, Flashes his blade with a severing fate. Diosf We stagger. He lies at our feet. Adios, dear one, until we meet, Querida, my querida ! Flashing of yellow and dash of red, Clinging rebosa and droop of head, I w^atch you going with anxious heart To where the shadows kiss as they part, Querida, my querida ! 34 THE RISING FOG SKY with brooding fog-bank gray, Mist-shrouded hills, and gloomy Bay, A sun that hides his face, The damp of winter in the air, And chilling quiet everywhere That nothing can efface ; Then, in the East faint blue is seen, While hill-slopes show a tender green As sun-rays light their sides ; The western sky gleams silvery bright, The Bay 's a crystal line of light, A dazzling orb now blinds the eyes. And mortal spirit-levels rise. 35 IN LENT CHE leaden rain incessant weeps, The gray-garbed earth with moisture steeps, The Easter-lily hidden sleeps In lowly prison. The penitential season run, The warmth of Heaven's uplifting Sun Draws heart of Man and flower as one, For Christ has risen. 36 EASTER IN SAN FRANCISCO CHE weeping heavens but complain Of Mother Earth's extensive pain ; Through Lent she doth in travail lie That fruit and flower she may supply. And when the Easter sun shall glow, The land a beauteous face will show, With buds outbursting into flowers As radiant-hued as rainbow showers. The travail crowned with joy at last, Forgotten is the sorrow past. On ashen heaps the flowers bloom. O'er hollowed ruin buildings loom. The quake and fire feed a past; A radiant city rises fast, In garments of a newly bom She greets with hope the Easter mom. 37 THE EARTHQUAKE BABE QEATH a flame-lighted sky, amid terror and strife, He had breathed out his first feeble effort of Hfe, But, raised from the chill of a quiescent breast In the arms of a child-stricken pity, He had builded a home amid homeless unrest In the heart of a ruin-strewn city. 38 CALIFORNIA VIOLETS O RAIN-WET flowers! I cuUed you all To drape you as a purple pall On a wintry memory; The fragrance of your sundered lives W^ith subtle influence revives A hope of Spring to me. Go, breathe the thought inspired in my breast, And bring to other lives a Spring-tide blest. 39 IN CHINATOW^N SLUMS CHE cherry orchard was bright with bloom, A wind swept through the fragrant trees; No blossom that fell was fairer than she, While he was the blighting breeze. In a pang of longing for girlhood fled With Love that blasted, she knew not how, She donned a muslin like blossoms shed; He had loved her once — he could save her now. He was showing some friends through Chinatown slums W^hen he saw^ her face, so wistful and fair ; He smelt the fragrant cherry-blooms In her belt and the fluffy ma^ of hair. "Turn your face away." He cast down his eyes As he saw her over the casement lean. "These are moral lepers," with pious disgust, And he hurried onward, "unclean! unclean!" 40 ON THE ROAD TO SAUSALITO ^ly^^HERE a shady road is winding down to m ■ ^ Sausalito Bay, IMF There 's a little girl a- walking and a- ^^ML^ dreaming all the way, While the sunshine-flecks are catching at her wavy wind-blown hair, And a-kissing dusty dimples in her arms so brown and bare. Where an open gap, revealing, shows the marsh- land silvery green, Near the blue Bay with its islands, and beyond the City's sheen. She 's a-standing and a-gazing wistfully across the Bay; And I know of whom she 's dreaming, little wind- blown maid in gray ! 41 THE HUMAN HEART CHE heart two portals opens wide : One to the friends on every side ; But, veiled behind a curtain thin, They cannot see the thoughts within. Deep in a comer is a door: Here, naught obscuring hangs before, And secrets of a heart lie bare To those we love ; to those who care. 42 THE MARSH QO LONGER is the marsh-land a thing one might despise, For Summer dipped her paint-brush into the depths of skies To tint the low expanses with roseate-purple sheen. She blued the pools and channels with clouded tur- quoise-green. And now the bordering mountains, all burned a somber brown, Devoid of Spring-time color, with mighty envy frown. 43 NIGHTFALL ^^-™-^HEN the meadow-larks are calling W I ^ In a sweet and sleepy way, IMF And the busy world is resting after VEX day, When the tired hands are idle, And the mind can seek its play, Then the dreams of old ambitions Come with sad, resistless sway, And life is worth the while ; For the weary heart can smile At all the petty worries of the day. 44 A SEQUOIA NUN OOWN columned cloisters, dim and green, she walks, A nun-like creature, thoughtful, sweet and rare. Her heart attunes to matins with the birds, She hears, head bowed, each rustling leaflet's prayer. The world's frivolities are far away In distant cities gathered round the Bay, And life of Love and Strife seek not this maid Sworn to a sisterhood with woodland shade. 45 W^OODLAND LOVERS CHE dying summer's breath, sweet-scented, prayed For happy hearts encouraged in her shade. So Indian summer, with the balmiest days, Extends the limit of the season's plays. The rustling leaves, down-dropping to the feet, AVhisper that days are flying, heedless one ! The crispy dry bits 'neath your steps repeat " Be warned ! " for soon the woodland play is done ; So bind your hearts while still is fragrance shed That, in the rain and chill when summer 's fled, You may be cheered by love, and then recall The tender woods, and that charmed scene of all. 46 ST. DOROTHY'S REST IN A redwood grove its glories hide. There 's a rustic cross on the mountainside, By mother-love lifted, pain-crucified ; A bit of peace on a mountain crest Is St. Dorothy's Rest. When the fire-light shines in the cheerful gloom, The pictured child, in the living-room. Smiles down on the health and joy expressed By the crippled children in the nest At St. Dorothy's Rest. The brown chapel doors have opened wide, For the halt and the lame, and the woodland bride ; The stream of life is broad and blest That flows through the gate, with rough bark drest, At St. Dorothy's Rest ; For when the birds, with their chattering gay, Make love in Nature's happiest way, From the building of their woodland home Till the eggs are hatched and the birdlings flown, There are crippled children in the nest Of St. Dorothy's Rest. 47 THE W^OODSMAN ^-— -^HERE once Kit Carson trod the trail ^ ■ ^ To valley depths below, IMF The woodsman drives his four-horse ^^JL^ team With many a hoarse halloo. The same tall pines chant ceaselessly As when in Carson's ear They sounded warning requiems, But the woodsman does not hear. The blazoned way, the granite shapes. No meaning to him brings ; He takes his way at dusk of day, And, fearless, loudly sings. 48 SNOV/ ON TAMALPAIS 'LREADY hint of flowers show On every sloping side; For roses blow, And row^ on row The scarlet glow Of hedges, where geraniums hide, Leads to the valley side. Against the azure sky asleep, The well-known outlines rise. But white and deep; A silvered heap, W^ith crystal sweep. Now drapes her, bride-like, where she lies, The Maid of Tamalpais I 49 AT BRACKEN BRAE CHE noisy stream with grave intent Hums out a requiem of content, As drifting leaves upon its breast Float downward to a peaceful rest. The frail leaf knows one season's span, But we, of the great Human Clan, Brief season of content can claim, Then drift to much we cannot name. How many by this fern-fringed brink Have stooped from brimming cup to drink And felt the heart responsive thrill To droning hiss and rushing rill ? Where are they now ? The stream's reply Unchanging rumbles droning by. The Streams of Life forever flow W^here human faith alone can go. The bright Tomorrow^ is the song Reechoed as they flow along. Eternity 's the minor strain, Eternity 's the deep refrain Of woods and streams, with soft regret Lest we weak mortals should forget. 50 KINSHIP LONG low stretch where winding rivers shine, The sleepy call of birds, the low of kine, A toiler, black against a sky aflame. Look at this picture. Can you give the name ? If near that sailboat, seen as if on land, A windmill stirred, then Holland were at hand. If loomed a camel thwart that sunset sky, A distant caravan, and palm trees high, It would be Eg3^t and the Nile, no doubt. It is our San Joaquin with these left out. A long low stretch where winding rivers shine, The sleepy call of birds, the low of kine, A toiler, black against a sky aflame, All men are kin ; all lives and views the same. 51 THE OLD TRAIL BLEACHED gray road to the Divide Along the old Kit Carson trail, Its powdered granite dust conceals The gist of many an old-time tale. The feet of brawny men, close-pressed, Have halted to defend their own, And pathos, love, and tragedy This winding trail has known. The blazoned tree-trunks mark their graves, And reminiscent travelers hear The tall pines chant a requiem, In memory of the pioneer, For many strove, and loved, and died On the old trail to the Divide. 52 V/OODLAND GOSSIP HEAVENLY quiet brooded o'er the trees, My thoughts attuned to rustling leaves and breeze, "Whose kindly whispers set my doubts at ease ; When hoarsely rose a clamoring of crows Black-omened, overhead amidst the green, My secret they proclaimed as gossips will, But I cared not who thought it well or ill, For from the shadows tripped my maid serene. 53 AMBITION AND DUTY 'MBITION is a song of joy ; a striving For blossoms far above the normal ease; While Duty is a monotone : a weeding About the soil-tamped roots that mother these. 54 THE EAGLE DANCE CHE young braves beat with muffled bone, The old squaws drone in monotone, The circling dancer giddy swirls. Now high, now low, he swings and whirls, Then slow his winged arms extend, — They dip, with bird-like swoop they bend ; His body crouches for the flight, Head forward thrust, eyes steely bright. A naked body, sinewy, brown, An eagle's feather tops his crown ; Upon his lean bare arms are bound An eagle's wings. There 's not a sound Escapes the straight, unconquered mouth Of this sad Redman of the south. The visions of an eagle rise And hide the curious white men's eyes. Young, bold as in the days of yore He sees the mighty eagle soar. With swoop, and dip, new energy He dances, dreaming he is free. 55 THE HIGH SIERRAS O MIGHTY mountains, misty-crowned and bare, I grieve to dwell so far from you ; so low I cannot raise my eyes and see the snow Upon your cloud-encircled crests in air ! And yet, remembering, I'm w^ith you there. Beloved Sierras ! any other view Loses its charm if once compared with you, And longing still I w^ander everywhere. Your lofty grandeur carved upon my heart As on a graven tablet, for all time. Unchanged, and durable as stone, With influence that never can depart; For petty w^orries shrank from the Sublime That voiceless came upon me there, alone. 56 THE JAPANESE WIND-BELL OBELL of a pagan temple, That with Nature's softest sigh Breathes a prayer of a Shinto priesthood, What mean you to such as I ? Can you tinkle reverential prayers of a Christian kind With all those gaudy emblems made for the heathen mind? The tri-shaped blue meant Fugi, The Sacred Mount of Love, But blue and Faith are symbols, And Faith can mountains move ; The strips of long wistaria Are gay of Hope expressed ; The flowered squares are tokens Of Charity, world-blessed. So, Bell, with your tinkling message, Breathe many a double prayer For the peace of the One and the Other Who worship with you there. 57 POSING 'Y DEAR little maid of Japan, A-flirting and twirling your fan, There is rouge on your cheek, And a dimple that 's deep, O quaint little maid of Japan ! I'm sure that your gown and the rest, The sash, and the gay flowered vest. E'en the fan in your hand. All came from the land Of the coy little maid of Japan. You 're posing remarkably well, And really I ought not to tell. But the hand that 's in sight Is a trifle too white For a brown little maid of Japan. For you are a fraud, I am sure. Though your looks are so meek and demure, And the photo, I fear, Will show plainly, my dear. That you are no maid of Japan. 58 THE SIERRAS 'E LOFTY ones whose blunt uplifted crests Show purple-gray through distances of blue, The mighty image of your spirit rests Upon me now, at memory of you, And grayish Trouble glints with brighter hue. How often, lying on your rugged breasts. Have I divorced those most unwelcome guests Called W^orriments. 'Twas as you said, " To thine own self be true." I felt your ponderous call to me, O mighty mountains of a glorious West ! And like the Psalmist lifting up mine eyes. Absorbed a strength from heights I could not see, Absorbed endurance also, with the rest, O hoary-crowned Sierras, grave and wise ! 59 THE WEST CHE choicest colors the eye can hold, Turquoise and crimson, purple and gold, Glow in the West. The finest thoughts when the day grows cold Bring peace and hope if the fretting soul Looks to the West. W^ith the world progressing every day, The same old watch-word paves the way, "On to the West." 60 HERE ENDS BY THE BAY, A BOOK OF VERSE BY LUCIA E. LORING (SMITH). FRONTISPIECE FROM A BAS-RELIEF MODELED BY BRADETTA L. SMITH. OF THIS EDITION TWO HUNDRED &> FIFTY COPIES \VERE IMPRINTED BY THE TOMOYE PRESS, SAN FRANCISCO, FOR PAUL ELDER ^ COMPANY, UNDER THE DIRECTION OF J. H. NASH, IN THE YEAR NINETEEN HUNDRED &> NINE. ma^^^"^ COfY r,s=\ TO cftT :-.v.