Class. 
 Book. 
 
 
 Gopyriglit]^'!^ 
 
 CjOnfRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
PINE CONES 
 
 AND 
 
 CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 A Volume 
 
 of Original Verse 
 
 Composed by 
 
 OSTORIUS GIBSON 
 
 Crane & Co., Topeka, Ivans. 
 
Copyright 1922 
 
 by 
 
 08T0RIUS GIBSON, 
 
 the Author. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 fmi8'22 
 
 ©C1AG90390 
 
 1 
 
 
Affectionately dedicated 
 to the memory of my dear mother, 
 
 MARY ELIZABETH ASHER-GIBSON, 
 
 who implanted, and nourished 
 within me, a desire to learn. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This is my first attempt at publication. 
 
 No one has seen or heard any of the matter herein con- 
 tained, except three poems which have been published, or 
 circulated privately, so I must take full responsibility. 
 
 I am conscious of many defects in the work. If what has 
 been written brings as much pleasure to those who read it, 
 as it has brought to me in the preparation of it, I shall 
 have my reward. 
 
 Part of the work was done amid the pines at, and near. 
 Flagstaff, and the remainder in southern Arizona, whence 
 the title. 
 
 I am indebted to Mrs. Ella H. Estill of Tucson, Arizona, 
 for the attractive cover design. She has faithfully repre- 
 sented the emblems chosen for the title. 
 
 OsTORius Gibson. 
 
 Tombstone, Arizona, 
 May 23, 1922. 
 
A CITY AMONG THE PINES 
 
 You are, nestling in your couch so high, 
 First favorite of the hosts of sky. 
 As an infant in her mother's eye. 
 
 Amid your scenes so fair and wild. 
 Was I nurtured when a little child, 
 And my soul to poesy was beguiled. 
 
 Whether tempests rave, or zephyrs laugh. 
 Your patriot soul soars above the raff. 
 And sets up Old Glory's proud Flagstaff. 
 
 Winter's snows cover your fair face. 
 Softening all lines to a tender grace, 
 As does a woman's charms, her silks and lace. 
 
 The resinous airs from your pines give health. 
 
 Your ranges and forests abundant wealth. 
 
 High resolves from high plains creep in by stealth. 
 
 SYMPATHY 
 
 I read a tale of love 
 
 So sweet, so heavenly. 
 
 Every tender heart string seemed to move 
 
 In joyful sympathy. 
 
 Then came the tear-dimmed parting 
 By cruelty of men. 
 Every chord of being hurting 
 By such a sight of pain. 
 
 It is the very life of hearts which know 
 The power of love, 
 
 To share another's joy, and in another's woe 
 Help to give. 
 
 (7) 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 MULTUM IN PARVO 
 
 A star shines as brightly in a tiny pool, 
 As it does in heaven's azure dome; 
 So God dwells as truly in a humble soul 
 As he does in his fair, celestial home. 
 
 OBSERVED 
 
 The field grass, with its drooping blades, 
 
 On sands traces geometric lines. 
 
 The busy wasp bores his funnel in the dust. 
 
 Common weeds are a pigmy forest. 
 
 A rose bush hangs over my path 
 
 As though it wished to greet me. 
 
 Prairie dogs set sentinels to watch me. 
 
 A level field runs up to the mountain base. 
 
 I see a cleft in the forest trees. 
 
 As though for a long way 
 
 They are ranged along an aisle. 
 
 Narrow, and sloping away 
 
 At a gentle angle, which, looking through 
 
 To the mountains, much resembles 
 
 A narrow gorge, or canon pass. 
 
 The mountains are surrounded 
 
 By a deep, soft, pink mist. 
 
 Which makes them appear to be 
 
 Faintly illumined from an inner light. 
 
 A soft sheen, like liquid light. 
 
 Goes racing o'er the waving grass. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 THE CORN SHIP 
 
 [During a famine in India the farmers of America gave a ship load 
 of com to feed the hungry. The following lines were written on the 
 sailing of the ship, and appeared in the California Christian Advocate. 
 They are apropos to the present, for American farmers are asked to 
 give 5,000,000 bushels of wheat to help Armenia.] 
 
 Sail on ! O white-winged bird ! 
 
 My ardent thought would transform thee 
 
 To a beautiful gold-winged seraph 
 
 Bearing the life of thy heart throb 
 
 For others* nourishing, were it not 
 
 More blessed to remember 
 
 That thou are steel ; 
 
 Obeying but the will of men, 
 
 Bearing but the gifts of men. 
 
 To feed the wasted bodies 
 
 Of the millions of their brothers. 
 
 On, on, we ever speed 
 
 On wings of thought 
 
 In quest of God; 
 
 But thus are we ever taught of Him, 
 
 That in the earth we walk on, 
 
 The men, the things we see, 
 
 And feel, and give, doth He abide. 
 
 And not more in remote elysium. 
 
 Blest Triumph ! 
 
 Yet thou art more than triumph. 
 
 Thine achievement is a-past 
 
 The little range of our philosophy. 
 
 We stand in happy humbleness, 
 
 And bow with more than reverence 
 
 Of common thought, as thou dost pass, 
 
 As we mutely stand abashed 
 
 Before God's mighty works in nature. 
 
10 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Blest deed! 
 
 Yet thou art more than deed. 
 
 A sublime exaggeration 
 
 Of our common doing 
 
 Doth cling about thee. 
 
 Yet thou hadst thy beginning 
 
 In the thought of humble man; 
 
 And thy doing was as great 
 
 As other victories of earth. 
 
 Blest mission! 
 
 Yet thine is more than mission. 
 
 Thy hold is bursting with the fruitage; 
 
 For love no longer bound is 
 
 By the tide marks of the nations, 
 
 But has passed all coasts. 
 
 Thou art floating on its water; 
 
 And we hear no strained, uncertain song 
 
 Borne to our ears by imagery ; 
 
 But as the deep, rich tones of ocean's tides 
 
 Are set to cadence by the winds 
 
 In a mighty rhapsody. 
 
 So the song of humanity, 
 
 God inspired, envelopes us 
 
 With its symphony. 
 
 And, as the press upon the lips 
 
 Of the warm kiss of affection 
 
 Assures that a loved one 
 
 Whose absence we have grieved, 
 
 Is with us in that nearness 
 
 Which is more than all the mind creates. 
 
 So in thee, our and our brothers* hearts 
 
 Are met, touch to touch. 
 
 In the warmth of a living love. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 11 
 
 ERRANTRY 
 
 Like an errant bird 
 My heart has flown, 
 Far through the world 
 Hath its flight gone. 
 
 Lured by its sunshine, 
 And rich fruited lands, 
 Lost in its wideness, 
 Blown by its winds. 
 
 INNOCENCE 
 
 I saw them at their happy play 
 Upon the warm and shining sands ; 
 With bared feet and busy hands, 
 Abuilding cities all the day, 
 
 A rosy girl, and chubby boy. 
 
 Their simple dress was worn so sparse 
 
 (A child's delight in summer) that scarce 
 
 Denied me was the sensuous joy 
 
 Of viewing the graces of their forms; 
 
 But if an evil thought upwellod, 
 
 Within my heait, with shamp 'twas quelled 
 
 By prayer — a thought that never harms. 
 
 So innocent of guile were they. 
 Sweet types to me they seemed 
 Of fair creation's morn. I dreamed 
 A world as free of taint as they. 
 
 Why may not be such purity 
 (Men but flaunt with evil thought. 
 And with an evil will are sought. 
 The carnal lusts,) since Christ is surety? 
 
12 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 A MAGDALEN 
 
 Her heart seemed ever warmer, 
 Her charity ever wider, 
 Her hand seemed ever kinder 
 In oft bestowing. For 
 No state or experience exists 
 That doth not teach its own 
 Peculiar lesson. 
 
 Chide her not that she doth often think 
 
 With tears, of those, her fellows 
 
 In her sin ; that they do seem so dear 
 
 To her e'en now; for there is 
 
 A twining silken cord which binds 
 
 Our human hearts together. 
 
 Near and fatal ; and if one be 
 
 Raised above the state of others, 
 
 'Tis but draped in graceful lines 
 
 To others still below; and its fiber 
 
 Tighter drawn, more vibrant is 
 
 To the tender touch of sympathy. 
 
 And intimacy hath a tender charm. 
 
 Forever holding those to be 
 
 Much nearer in all life's changes 
 
 Who have enjoyed its privilege; 
 
 And she hath found in them 
 
 Love, sympathy, tenderness and beauty, 
 
 And shall she not in memory be bound? 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 13 
 
 TEASING 
 
 They walk together. He is thoughtful, 
 
 abstracted. 
 She is smiling and mirthful, and 
 
 presently sings: 
 "Down in the barley com 
 Are the reapers grown o'er; 
 And a drowsy air is worn 
 By bird and tree, and flower and fern. 
 Thy love is drowsy, too, my dear." 
 
 THREE SEASONS 
 
 They walk along the meadow path, 
 'Mid sweetest, blowing airs of spring, 
 A joyous poet close his sweetheart hath. 
 And this the burden which they sing: 
 "Life is waking, love is waking," 
 (Blithe and sweet their happy song.) 
 "The rosy light of bliss is breaking, 
 Dull winged care its flight is taking, 
 And our hearts sing 'tis flown for long." 
 
 II. 
 
 In harvest's happy fields is he. 
 
 With sturdy strength, abinding up the sheaves. 
 
 In a cosy, children blessed home is she. 
 
 And in her heart a song its happy cadence weaves: 
 
 "The field has ripened, ripened is love. 
 
 Our bliss is a measure heaped full and to spare, 
 
14 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 With comforts to bless us, with children to love. 
 A life in maturity. The pleasures we have, 
 Are sweeten'd by return of flight wearied care." 
 
 III. 
 
 They sit by the grate as winter howls wild. 
 
 No task have they now with its precious soul freight, 
 
 No burden to weight them, no care, and no child. 
 
 By song and by praise the hours are beguiled: 
 
 "The barns are filled, our love is full. 
 
 And stored against want are the bins. 
 
 Yea, stored is our harvest in yon golden hill 
 
 Where manna of heaven our hunger shall still. 
 
 Our life soon is ended. Our life soon begins." 
 
 CONTROL 
 
 The tempter said: 
 
 "Thy powers are dead; 
 
 Nor shall awake 
 
 To joy or ache; 
 
 Nor answer still 
 
 To warmth or chill.'* 
 
 But wisdom read 
 
 His plan, and said: 
 
 " 'Tig false, I trow; 
 
 For we can know 
 
 By a higher power, 
 
 Whence, as from battled tower 
 
 Men may look down 
 
 On a sleeping town. 
 
 And know there live 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 15 
 
 The men who give 
 
 It being, and form, 
 
 Who will wake at morn; 
 
 Or like the pure and brave 
 
 Who, beyond the grave. 
 
 And its treacherous dark, 
 
 Can see embark 
 
 The thing of life, 
 
 No more the wife 
 
 Of dullard flesh,—- 
 
 A treach'rous mesh." 
 
 But by such guile 
 
 He sought the while, 
 
 To tempt me on 
 
 His will to own; 
 
 To stir my sense 
 
 In ignorance, 
 
 As foeman rise 
 
 With swift surprise 
 
 From hiding, then 
 
 One's strength o'erween, 
 
 And sink his soul 
 
 In corruption foul. 
 But since do live 
 The powers which give 
 Me being, and form, 
 I seek that art 
 Which rules the heart, 
 That I may rest 
 When e'er 'tis best, 
 Or cause to flow 
 With richest glow. 
 My every power, 
 In a chosen hour. 
 
16 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 GRACE 
 
 [Respectfully dedicated to the memory of Charles Nelson Orittenton, 
 founder of the Crittenton Homes.] 
 
 Did you seek the place of worship on the holy Sabbath 
 
 morn 
 In the lovely town of F — , where my story sad was 
 
 born, 
 Some kindly hand would point you to a quaint but charm- 
 ing pile, 
 Standing 'midst the clustered houses, which reposed like 
 
 pleasing smile 
 Upon a countenance of beauty, or of our mother earth, 
 Clinging round it like her children, round a mother, in 
 
 their mirth. 
 For so the house of God doth nourish, like a mother at her 
 
 breast. 
 All of good to any people, most of happiness and rest. 
 Its form and all the graving were of beauty high and 
 
 rare; 
 Not pretentious, nor antique, but simple, like a strong and 
 
 moving prayer. 
 It was a gift a loving people lovingly had made 
 To God; and like a child of love the parent features were 
 
 portrayed, 
 Speaking most of simple wisdom and devotion of the heart, 
 As is found in most profusion far from crowded street and 
 
 mart. 
 Did you enter in, a gracious air surrounded you, and made 
 
 you feel at ease. 
 The courtesy of hearts of love, and fellowship, gently 
 
 strove to please 
 In their Master's name the stranger in the midst, and send 
 
 him forth 
 Happier and holier, by breathing air of heaven 'mid the 
 
 baser air of earth. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 17 
 
 The worship was most helpful, like manna fall'n from God; 
 Made strong the fainting soul, so with preparation shod 
 Each listener prepared might be for coming weekly toil. 
 The pastor spoke old wisdom, good seed in kindly soil, 
 Which bore fruit like that which clothes the earth with 
 
 beauty, food and life. 
 It was not so much his wisdom filled our souls with glory 
 
 rife, 
 As that all had come to worship, and the Master met us 
 
 there. 
 Worship is like mountain climbing, and thought, and song, 
 
 and prayer, 
 (The trusted things of soul), the guides which go before 
 
 and fix 
 Stay ropes fast, and cut in the cliffs safe niches 
 Where our feet securely rest, that we may upward mount. 
 I pity unbelieving souls, traveling like paths, who count 
 Not the worth of these; but fall, are bruised, and may not 
 
 pass 
 To greatest heights; but them inaccessible must class. 
 
 In the choir there stood a fair, chaste, young girl, 
 
 Or woman. E'en the tints of passion, like the tints of 
 
 pearl, 
 Did but set out her purity. Beside stronger forms of men 
 She stood the sweet, ideal of women, men love and win, 
 (Too often to destroy by cruelty begot of baseness not akin 
 To their finer souls.) Rapturous had been 
 Her child and maiden years. Life was If^^e. Nor seen 
 Had she, much of wrong or sorrow. Her soul a gallery was 
 Set round with images of beauty grouped in fairest pose. 
 Her eyes were large, and lustrous, soft shimmering lakes 
 Of chocolate, whose opal tints glowed and waned, as sleeps 
 
 and wakes 
 The ember. They spoke to you of confidence, seemed to 
 
 give 
 
18 . PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Her soul to you as though only hers in trust, as her hand 
 alms did give. 
 
 Life was a dream. It awakened voiceless sympathies, un- 
 defined emotions. 
 As are inspired by forms and tints in clouds 'mid trans- 
 forming motions. 
 It was happiness, love and melody. She could but speak 
 Her thought in sweet, unbroken flow of music. Each week 
 Her song echoed in the heart, and cheered the way 
 Of burdened toilers. She looked for happiness as for re- 
 turning day. 
 She loved a woman's place, and all her heart 
 Yearned forward to sweetest joy, most sacred state, a 
 wife's part. 
 
 In the self same town a man there was 
 
 Tall, young, handsome, who wooed, won her love ; and those 
 
 Who knew them both spake kindly of them. 
 
 And consented he was happiest of men. 
 
 He won her heart, and asked her hand, and both she 
 
 sweetly gave. 
 Then troth was sealed, as troth should be, by sacred kiss 
 
 of love. 
 He asked consent of father, mother. Both loved their child, 
 The best of both their souls in unity. By query mild. 
 And loving, both sought her happiness. They talked, 
 
 prayed, wept. 
 And talked all o'er again till late before they slept. 
 Then sadly gave consent. But father doubted, mother 
 
 feared. 
 It had not seemed to father's eyes (within his heart) John 
 
 cared 
 As much for things of God, or was as kind as he should be ; 
 And mother knew not why, but kept not back the tears 
 
 when he 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 19 
 
 Was thought of as the husband of her child. But still 
 They hoped and prayed for best, and blessed them with 
 
 good will 
 And sped them on to all the bliss they prayed for them. 
 Grace was only happy, only loved him 
 With all her heart, which never knew mistrust. 
 And deemed she received as she had given, faith the truest. 
 With auspices all fair their wedding day drew on. 
 And passed. Scarcely were words of gratulation said, till 
 
 they were gone 
 To distant city to make the sweet beginning their parents 
 
 made, 
 Each pair must make, so like a birth of being. Nor had 
 
 stayed 
 In their new home long, and scarce tasted of its bliss, 
 When he became unkind, and of her beauty jealous. 
 
 Unkindness fell as a stinging blow upon her tender nature, 
 
 and 
 Frantic, dazed, thinking the fault her own, plann'd 
 Tremblingly to cure it. Her much concern did seem 
 To make her foolish, and overdo. He did deem 
 Her much concern but childish weakness, and farther grew 
 From her; and when she came with pleading looks, dew 
 Of sorrow, disheartenment, moist upon her lashes, to ask 
 His kiss, he would coldly spurn her, nor mask 
 His cruel thoughts, which plainly spoke suspicion. Fell 
 Many months dragged on; but the listener be spared the ill 
 We fain had spared to her. There came a babe, sweet faced, 
 Fair as her mother. She forgot her sorrow for a while, and 
 
 placed 
 The child in the father's arms, losing self, and said 
 "I can be happy if he kindly treats my child." She laid 
 Her on her bosom, and it seemed she had been born out 
 
 there. 
 
20 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 For her pain was gone a while through happiness; but 
 
 care, 
 Like a cruel rival, returned to crush the heart he might not 
 
 claim. 
 The man would seem to love the child, and Grace's love for 
 
 him 
 Awoke, as a suf f 'rer wakes from a happy dream, to pain. 
 His cruel way he held until, at last to gain 
 Surcease, they thought to part. She consented, for she 
 
 knew 
 Nought else to do; knew not why she should do that; but 
 
 grew 
 To think that it was best if he desired it. All seemed 
 Dark to her. She questioned if her innocence and love, 
 
 deemed 
 So divine, were more than error and stupidity. Was then 
 The beauty love had seen in him mere glamour? Were all 
 
 men 
 Heartless, cold, unjust as he? These, her questions, were 
 Unanswered, as were many things she asked of life. For 
 
 her 
 But two things seemed to live: Her love for her babe, and 
 
 pain 
 Of her love for him. A purpose dumb, chaotic filled her: 
 
 To gain 
 A living for herself and child, and in a strange land 
 Seek to be forgotten. She would go farther west, and find 
 Her desire amid its busy enterprises. He wished to know 
 The way she traveled, with seeming good intent to show 
 Her any kindness that he could. Without thought of dark 
 
 design 
 She told him, and made ready for her journey. On the 
 
 train 
 He traveled with her. Many hours passed and she 
 Was faint from hunger and fatigue. He came to see 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 21 
 
 If he, in any way, could be of service to her, and said 
 "You must be hungry, should get your dinner," and plead 
 That he might keep the child and luggage meanwhile. She 
 
 yielded 
 To his kindness, as she thought, thanked him that he >• 
 
 shielded 
 Her child and stuff, and went out. Scarce had she gone 
 When her husband conveyed away the baby on a wagon 
 He had waiting. He took the little money she had brought. 
 When she returned the train was moving. She thought 
 As they were not there, they had only gone a moment. Then 
 A lady asked her if she sought the man and child. And 
 
 when 
 She answered such the truth was, the lady told her straight 
 She saw them leave, and join one who seemed to wait. 
 She heard no more. Confusion filled her mind. 
 "Have I a child? a husband?" Then stared vacantly, could 
 
 find 
 No speech, only hysteric laugh. "No, it is all a joke — 
 
 nothing is real 
 I am speeding into space — all is delusion — I cannot feel." 
 
 She wakened to half consciousness when 
 Her terminus was reached, and then 
 Something of the truth seemed dawning. She told 
 The conductor, but he gravely shook his head, laid hold 
 Of her remaining baggage, helped her down, and hurried on. 
 With the forced air of one who would escape a bore. Down 
 The streets she went, seeing no familiar face, 
 Knowing not her way, alone, penniless, and no place 
 To go. One thought clung to her fevered brain, like a ghost: 
 She must find her babe. She told of her lost 
 Child, perhaps not wisely, to any who would hear. 
 Some believed her not. Others touched were by the sob, 
 the tear 
 
22 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 With which she interspersed her tale; but said they had 
 
 not time, 
 Or turned away to more pleasant thoughts. Crime 
 Though it was, some turned away and laughed. On 
 She wandered, rending wide her heart as one 
 Afflicted in the Orient rends his garments. It was 
 As if she forgot God, nor asked his help, so much does 
 Love, unstrengthened by reason's sterner thought 
 But simply trust. Safe with God, it is blind, when sore 
 
 fraught 
 With trouble, in a world of sinning men, who do 
 Despite God's purpose, and sorely wound his own. Flew 
 On her tireless feet until she found a man, who. 
 Would help her trace her husband, and get her baby too. 
 If that were possible. Thank God if you possess a heart 
 That can listen to the simplest tale of sorrow. A part 
 It is, of our humanity, to help ; and help 
 May, in an important sense, come from no other source. 
 
 Help 
 He gave her, and they found the husband. But he said 
 She could not have the child, heaped abuse on her bowed 
 
 head; 
 Called her worthless, faithless, unworthy of her child ; 
 And sent her heart away as empty as her arms. Mild 
 Words are, to picture her bereavement. She was 
 Completely broken, wandered out; and her senses now re- 
 turned as 
 Though fell spirits kept her hoodwinked till they led her 
 To a hell of sorest torment, then took the blind away. 
 
 Where 
 Could she go? Friendless, penniless, she had not courage, 
 
 or desire 
 To preserve her life. When night came, the cheering fire 
 Kindled on many a hearth ; but neither heart nor hearth 
 Glowed warm for her. Night's mantle enwrapped the earth 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 23 
 
 Like Perseus' magic cloak, and hid her from all gaze. 
 
 And she was glad. In a park with the blaze 
 
 Of distant city lights unpenetrated, sick, worn out, 
 
 By all her toil, sorrow, misery and doubt, 
 
 Seeking a place of rest, she crept beneath a bench, 
 
 For concealment. She awoke at morn, did wrench 
 
 Her limbs to break their stiffness, crept forth, fearing lest 
 
 Some officer, pursuing duty, might see her, and arrest 
 
 Her for a vagrant. Two nights she spent thus. Then pangs 
 
 Of hunger did somewhat blunt the pitiless fangs 
 
 Of the writhing serpent which was stinging deep 
 
 Her heart. With strength and courage somewhat which 
 
 doth leap 
 Up in the beast of prey when he sights his quarry, she 
 Issued forth to ask some fellow man that he 
 Would give food; or if some sister would a morsel give, 
 And not be poorer by it. It doth grieve 
 The heart at the answers: "Be gone you sloven thing." 
 "Go and seek some work to do." "Nothing for you." The 
 
 ring 
 Of cruel, low suspicion spoke in every voice. 
 And reached her heart. What had she done? No choice, 
 No power had she to stay her fate. She turned away. 
 A new sorrow consumed her hunger. Through the day 
 She wandered. None spoke kindly, inquired, nor gave 
 Her food. At last a man passed where she walked. 
 He was alone, handsome, well dressed. He saw none talked 
 To her. Seeing well her face she mostly strove 
 To hide, he saw her beauty weeping but enheightened. Love 
 With sweet, soft lines had touched her countenance, with 
 
 brush 
 In strokes dainty and rich, yet delicate, transfused in blush 
 Of tender'st colors. Marking her symmetry, in his eyes 
 There played a half awful, half enchanting light of passion. 
 
24 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Cries 
 There an infant in the world, or man or beast, and does 
 Not the mother hear it, and answer to its woes? 
 But our religion, which all confess should glow 
 With warmth of human love divine, doth grow 
 Too cold and formal. As the stranger marked her 
 And coming closer, she, with an instinct of her nature 
 Looked into his eyes, so as to bear to his inmost heart 
 The tender waves of a soul's appeal, like string of harp 
 Vibrant loud within. Fled evil motive as much as may be 
 From a heart where God doth not abide ; and straight he 
 Went to her, the warmth of kindly impulse welling 
 Up in all his being; and as such souls may feel, feeling 
 For her. She simply said she needed food and rest. 
 He gave her means to purchase these, and quickly passed 
 His way, his breast now filled with wild, romantic fancies. 
 
 The thought 
 Of her possessed him; for so it is with passionate souls 
 
 untaught 
 In constancy, and high control, that currents of the soul 
 Set with hot vehemence toward each new attraction, with 
 
 whole 
 Power, whole desire, like breakers of the sea 
 Which race before each changing wind. She 
 Took his gift, scarce understanding, nor with enough 
 Of native gratefulness awake to thank him ! 'Twas enough 
 To him that she accepted it. Her mind was numb. 
 And she moved by mechanic impulses, dumb 
 To her reason — impelled by carnal powers. Now we 
 Pass her story over until we see 
 Her when she may guide the course, 
 Add a link, to our chain of discourse. 
 
 In her benefactor's heart, with speeding headway, did gain 
 love, we call it. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 25 
 
 Which glowed with fervent ardor. Love or passion was it^ 
 If passion only it was as pure as much of what in earth 
 Bears name of love. 'Twas not such love as finds a joy, 
 
 not dearth, 
 In sacrifice; but a kind impatient of restraint. 
 Finding its goal in sensuous accomplishment; holding with 
 
 faint 
 Desire, eternal values by the side of carnal. But O 
 Warm was it. It tuned his voice with richer tones to 
 Plead his cause; and set his pulses throbbing in such 
 
 fashion 
 There flowed thereout a strange, magnetic power to re- 
 sponsive passion. 
 Her heart was changed. She looked on him with vassal eyes. 
 Would gladly kiss the hand that fed her. To rise 
 There seemed an admiration, ere now unknown to her. 
 Sense was alive, and things of sense seemed only real. More 
 Did seem to grow this bias, until she fell. They fell. 
 Both weak, both erring, both sinning. To tell 
 The story further is not proper to pure minds. 
 But in any fall, charity its privilege finds. 
 
 She had sinned. Now the truth came flooding in. 
 
 Passion, sense, desire by pyrotechnic glow, obscure or dim 
 
 The greater light of reason and of right, until 
 
 Passion spent, the fires died out, light flowing in doth fill 
 
 The soul with a painful brightness, like glaring light 
 
 Thrown suddenly upon eyes accustomed to the night. 
 
 Her heart awoke. Those pure and tender instincts 
 
 Of womanhood revived ; but sin had led her to the precincts 
 
 Of the fallen ; and native sense of honor made her feel her 
 
 place. 
 She said "I am one of them." "Nor shall any know my face 
 'Mid the circles of the pure." She thought of her child. 
 what had she done? It seemed to her fancies wild 
 
26 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 As though disaster awaited her on every side; 
 
 That consequences loomed and multiplied, as they did hide 
 
 Themselves, their warning, till she fell, then rose up 
 
 To gloat, and torture her. She felt her cup 
 
 Of sorrow to brim was filled. Should she see her child 
 
 again? 
 All through her night of woe, ere this, spite of pain 
 Hope had lived; and though unknown, like a loving friend 
 In time of sad bereavement, did strive to mend 
 Many broken heart strings. Now that, too, was gone. 
 She felt severed there had been a stay which fixed her soul 
 
 on 
 God, and she was sinking, sinking. Distracted with terror 
 
 she 
 Overwrought her nerves, and slept at last exhausted. The 
 Warmth of the genial sun awakened her 
 To sense of earth life, of substance. Her 
 Room was pleasant, with comforts her spirits sore beguiled. 
 She felt helpless, longed for any sympathy of man or child 
 Which heart hungering appeased. Her benefactor came 
 And a woman of his kind. Their hearts felt for her. No 
 
 blame 
 They thrust her with, but wept with her, and more rebelled 
 Against the rigid code which ever distant held 
 Them from society, as they did interpret it, and see 
 It most interpreted. Then to share their fellowship was 
 
 she 
 Constrained, and not to spend her life in quest of what did 
 
 torture only. 
 And deprive of all the sweetest things of life. Lonely 
 Past all bearing, she went with them. With divided vision 
 
 they 
 Persuaded were that they were right; that the play 
 Of humanity was paramount to the truth of God. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 27 
 
 She went among them, lived their life-dizzy, many colored. 
 
 Had 
 She love of music? Here she found congenial sympathy; 
 
 for sense doth seem 
 The warmth, energy and melody of music to control. I 
 
 ween 
 That among the fallen, where passion, sense, the liquid life 
 Most flows, is heard the warmest, sweetest music, rife 
 With all that stirs and compels, as though it breathed the 
 
 power 
 Of fabled, sister Sirens, who woed but to death. The happy 
 
 hour 
 Would she beguile, she found these men and women too 
 Of most congenial kind, held by no vexatious rule, who 
 Squandered freely gold and spirit. All 
 Was sacrificed to pleasure. Still to each would come the 
 
 call 
 At times, of conscience, a tender pleading and 
 Chiding of the love of God ; but sweets of sense, warm em- 
 brace, press of hand 
 Ruled there, more than those, and so she drifted 
 Swiftly on. Sometime thought of mother, father lifted 
 Off the heart its veil. These were put away with tears 
 And bitten lips, resolving they should never know. Fears 
 Oft seized her soul, vague as frights in childhood. 
 What strange mingling of highest honor, basest shame, 
 
 that would 
 Make our fallen natures hug its shame, and die to save a 
 
 loved one 
 The disgrace of knowing, when their hearts would run 
 Their deepest currents in the soil to help us. A while 
 'Mid her absorbing grief she had forgotten father, mo- 
 ther.' Now guile 
 Would argue that she should only love and shield them 
 
28 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 From the shame her life had brought them. They heard 
 
 when 
 She left her home, but never since, so to each other said 
 Sadly, "It must be our beloved child is dead." 
 She let them nurse this lesser grief. A wisdom grew 
 Of men, a self command, a mind to judge right from 
 
 wrong. Drew 
 On time when she half happy was, half miserable. First 
 Favorite, she was. Her heart half justified her, for love 
 
 like thirst 
 Of drunkard, led her on. It seemed but half sin. And yet 
 Her better part ne'er sanctioned, nor allowed her to forget. 
 A part she played, and those whom she embraced — 
 'Twas part in pity, part in love, part in desperation. 
 
 Braced 
 Her soul seemed Against right for a while. Then truth, 
 
 purity 
 Learned in childhood at mother's knee, like surety 
 Against her loss, came creeping in; as in after years 
 Smiles from childhood, its hopes and tears, 
 The incense breathed, the bird song heard and stored 
 Within the soul, are brought forth from the hoard, 
 Like honey from the cliffs, to sweeten all our lives. 
 Her heart returned to God (as a halting sufferer strives 
 To walk) by faith, and awakened reason. She sought 
 
 kindly, 
 Diligently, some way of escape. Became more kind, not 
 
 blindly, 
 But awakening to their mutual error. She shared her 
 
 purse 
 With needy ones. Talked with her sisters, and the curse 
 Of sin weighed upon them as on herself. Oft found 
 Another's story sad as her own. Learned they were bound 
 To their wayward life, but gladly would leave it. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 29 
 
 How should they? The world gave them a place. Escape 
 
 it 
 They could not. True, many men who came 
 Among them, returned to homes of purity. To them 
 Were opened wide the doors of social life; but these 
 Were kept without the walls as lepers. Ways 
 Were stoutly closed against them. They must within their 
 
 place, 
 Till disease consumed them, or death had cured all their 
 
 disgrace. 
 
 ****** 
 
 A father called of God to be a pastor, oft was told 
 
 To go out in the world, where flocks were scattered, and 
 
 in fold 
 To gather straying ones. He heeded not 
 God's call, thinking he was weak for such a work. He 
 
 thought 
 He could better serve a parish. He a daughter had, 
 A sweet faced, angel child. (God took her for he said 
 "E'en now she is worthy.") The father crushed was. 
 And pondered much why his child had died. "Has 
 God taken her that I may fuller see his way?" 
 He bore his loss in meekness, and his heart more tender 
 
 grew. Day 
 By day thought, until his father heart bereft took in 
 As his, the children of the world. To begin 
 He had large means, which he would use for God and good. 
 Through the land he went bearing help. None would 
 Ask his help, allow it, and go away uncomforted. He 
 Felt a special mission to outcast women. "She," 
 He thought, "Up there, is more than life to me. Are 
 
 these loved less?" 
 So he builded homes, and strove to cure their shame. 
 
 Stress 
 Of cruel criticism was great, but he braved it. His reward 
 
30 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 No man can count. God reserves that labor. But accord 
 To him praise, full measure, in emotion and in word. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 This good man came to the city where Grace was. 
 
 As fallen women to the Saviour came, thus 
 
 Came she and others. They were taken to a "Home." 
 
 A home it was, a refuge, where they had a welcome. Some 
 
 Employment was given them. The routine of the home 
 
 they did, 
 And felt the sweet power of christian sympathy, which fed 
 The heart with sweet morsels, and left no bitterness; 
 
 which 
 Gave more than human sympathy could give, and left them 
 
 rich. 
 For they paid not the price of virtue for it. It asks no 
 
 price 
 But what enriches more in paying — to live purely. Entice 
 Them not again. With constant love, and patient care 
 The matrons sought their good; and by counsel and by 
 
 prayer 
 To restore these wayward daughters to hearts that ached 
 
 for them. 
 With a courage born of noble purpose, most resisted firm 
 All efforts to discover their identity. Oft with rarest tact 
 Some word, some name, some incident was seized which 
 
 tracked 
 Their course. Grace asked the matron that she might 
 Wash the supper dishes all alone. Night 
 Was drawing on, all was hushed. E'en the busy birds 
 Employed to furnish music, rested with the plowman. 
 
 Herds 
 Sated with the fragrant grass, chewed the cud. 
 As in the kitchen Grace was busied, each task would 
 Stir some memory. The quiet of the evening hour, 
 The fragrant breeze seemed very memories. Their power 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 31 
 
 Awoke a flood of feeling, filled her heart, and song 
 Could only speak the language of the soul; and among 
 The hush and incense of the evening uprose the offering 
 
 of her heart: 
 
 "Rock of Ages, cleft for me 
 Let me hide myself in Thee." 
 
 Apart 
 From the kitchen door the matron listened, enwrapped, 
 
 held bound; 
 For never had she heard deep mysteries of life so speak 
 
 in sound. 
 Straightway then the matron told the good man 
 We have spoken of, about the music she had heard. Then 
 Was impressed the man with Grace's gentility, said that 
 
 he 
 Would have her sing for him, hoping it might be 
 He could learn her story. So later he asked the pleasure 
 That he might hear her sing the selfsame song. The 
 
 measure 
 Of her gratitude to him spoke in eyes and countenance; 
 
 but she 
 Simply said: "O I cannot. It would kill me." 
 He kindly spoke his disappointment. Many days 
 Went by. Perchance her heart is gaining. Perchance 
 
 strays 
 Again to her father's house the memory of a prodigal. 
 
 She longed 
 To have her story known, or could no more conceal it. 
 
 Thronged 
 The thoughts of home until she spoke them out unthought. 
 She spoke a name which by a listening ear was caught, 
 And she confessed he was her brother. Straightway there 
 
 went 
 Two letters penned in sweet, endearing words, sent 
 One to father, one to brother. Hard was it to trace them 
 
 out, 
 
32 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 For there were many of that name. Soon the letters bro*t 
 Glad answers. The brother wrote "Buy what she needs 
 And send her here to me." The father wrote such words 
 
 as feeds 
 Sorest hungering, too sacred for a stranger^s eye. 
 Her hardest burden was to bear their forgiving love. "Let 
 
 me die 
 Now, and no more see them till we meet where I am pure." 
 She wrote "I am unworthy. You would not know me now. 
 
 To cure 
 The scars of sin e'en Jesus' love does not suffice. I can- 
 not." 
 Father answered "Past eighty am I my child, and should 
 
 not 
 You consent to come, then I will come to you. 
 I am feeble, too, and may not bear the journey's toil; but 
 
 do 
 You still refuse, yet I will come." She read his words 
 And no spirit was left within her to deny him. Chords 
 Of pride were severed, and she went. Many miles 
 Before she reached home, an aged man came down the 
 
 aisles 
 Of the speeding train in search of his darling child. 
 He tottered, half from motion of the train, half from palsy 
 
 mild 
 Which comes with age, a sign earth its hold is losing. 
 And heaven's winds are swaying him, waiting God's choos- 
 ing 
 To waft him home. He passed where his daughter sat 
 And looked at her, and she at him. Timidity held her 
 
 back. At 
 Last a word escaped her heart and struggled to her lips, 
 Like a captive, freed, rushing forth to meet a loved one. 
 
 Sips 
 A god of classic time a nectar half so sweet, as holds 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 33 
 
 That dear word "Father?" Hearing it he clasped her, as 
 
 folds 
 God to his heart a sinner, enwrapping him from al/ 
 His guilt. And thus they sat a long time silently, in thrall 
 Too sweet, too sacred and too heavenly 
 For utterance in words. Forgetting love walked so ewer.ij 
 Above all common differences of life, that all 
 Of past, of ill, was now forgotten. And the old parental 
 
 hall 
 Seemed to speak a welcome. We will not look on 
 As mother and daughter meet. Leave them there alone, 
 To those deep, sweet feelings women feel, and only feel, 
 Not speak. Mother was now blind. See her child steal 
 Humbly to her, to ask her mercy. She was spared that, 
 Feeling warm arms about her neck, the pat 
 Upon her cheek, soft kisses on her lips. The daughter said 
 Afterward, "God closed her dear eyes that her aged head 
 Be not brought down with sorrow to the grave by seeing 
 
 deep 
 On her loved child's face imprint of sin." As in sleep 
 She always saw the innocent child, yet felt 
 The kiss of a woman redeemed. Sharing their joy, melt 
 Our hearts with theirs. She lived with them so sweetly, 
 
 and 
 Helpfully, their hasting years brought nothing to remand 
 Their memories to past years, sealed within their hearts, 
 
 save 
 Of happy things. So sweet was she, and good that love 
 Would almost disbelieve her shadowed past. Was her 
 
 story known. 
 And did men of evil purpose seek to tempt her on 
 The credit of her past? Her manner a confession was, 
 A trust, a prayer for pity from them ; much as 
 She was in their power, but asked their mercy 
 
34 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 That she be spared for virtue's sake, if not her own. Circe 
 Like, she was the sum of womanhood, and kept it pure. 
 
 As time sped on she took her place again in sacred choir. 
 Her voice was thronged with deeper meaning than before* 
 This song she sings as her prayer ever more: 
 "Rock of Ages, cleft for me. 
 Let me hide myself in Thee." 
 
 FANCY 
 
 The moon rose up. 
 
 And halved, was lying on the horizon, 
 
 Like a distant signal fire, 
 
 'Round which there walked, or stood, 
 
 Outlined in its mellow glow. 
 
 Strange men, of other thoughts. 
 
 Who seemed advanced in being 
 
 To a middle place. 
 
 Between the plane of mortals 
 
 And that other one 
 
 Where weights of flesh are gone; 
 
 And handled bundles. 
 
 Or passed 'cross spaces still unmeasured, 
 
 Whither they would betake their journey; 
 
 And winds of other worlds blew on them. 
 
 Chill and biting. 
 
 As they busied with their preparation. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 35 
 
 TO HOPE 
 
 Oh Hope. Thou blessed, sweet enchantress! 
 
 O chaste and gentle presence! 
 
 Hast thou thy wand from the hand of God? 
 
 What sounds are thine? 
 
 That, 'midst the strangest, sorest discords, 
 
 The heart of man may hear 
 
 The sweetest music? 
 
 And when the cold, amorphous gloom of doubt 
 
 To all sense adverse, enfolds our being, 
 
 Thou kindlest even it 
 
 To a rosy, mellow light, 
 
 Through which the soul looks up 
 
 In wide eyed wonderment. 
 
 As if waking in a strange place. 
 
 And when death shall grasp us, 
 
 And stifle all our struggles, 
 
 As one who casts a net 
 
 And then bestirs with diligence, 
 
 That the catch cannot escape. 
 
 Thou wilt touch the secret springs. 
 
 And up we'll see ascending 
 
 A life of far more grace and beauty. 
 
 Than we imagined in this life that is. 
 
36 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 SOLICITUDE 
 
 Can I love again? O, Can I love again? 
 My inmost soul I ask of thee 
 The burden of this strain. 
 
 Bees, with rarest nectars fed, 
 
 Full have stored the rough oak's heart 
 
 Against the winter's need. 
 
 So the flower months of life, 
 
 Have stored my heart with memories 
 
 Tender, sweet and rife; 
 
 And could I fill it greater 
 
 With love, sweet child for thee? 
 
 I would not say so. Later 
 
 Free space there may not be; 
 And rather would I die 
 Than bring a pain to thee. 
 
 REASON AND REVELATION 
 
 Man has reason. Let his morrows, 
 His full years be guided thereby. 
 
 By it proving 
 
 And defining 
 Every step. Its stern fiat 
 
 Now removing, 
 
 Now confirming 
 Duty's course. The way resolving, 
 
 Rightly mapping 
 From familiar headlands. Error's stay dissolving; 
 
 And unwrapping, 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 37 
 
 Every cord of destiny; deftly threading, 
 
 And so winding 
 The labyrinth of life; the being leading, 
 
 Its high end finding. 
 
 Could not the heart find happiness in doing, 
 
 And enjoying 
 The things it craved by nature? Ever sowing, 
 
 And employing 
 All its powers for self, in harvesting 
 
 And gathering; 
 From nature's store its dower wresting, 
 
 All temptations weathering? 
 
 No voice was heard pleading, 
 
 Or declaring. 
 But sweetest tones stirred, leading 
 
 And bearing 
 The music of thought. 
 The heart in musing 
 
 And reverie 
 Lost, by subtle art confusing 
 
 Its every 
 Instinct, had been weaving 
 
 And entwining 
 A tangled skein of pride ; had been striving 
 
 And complaining 
 Within itself. But by reason's own perceiving. 
 
 And revealing. 
 Reason is a growth; and in receiving 
 
 And unsealing 
 Treasure not its own, it has a being. 
 
 When, hearing 
 Sweet strains of soft music playing, 
 
 And pouring 
 Its song like waters overflowing, 
 
38 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 And filling 
 The soul, bliss seemed absolute; or viewing 
 
 The falling 
 Of eventide shades, the hidden sun gilding 
 
 And streaming 
 A rich, mellow glory o'er clouds folding, 
 
 And gleaming 
 (A scene indescribable) now glowing 
 
 And fading, 
 The splendor seemed growing 
 
 And shedding 
 Within me its glory, so sweetly seemed living 
 
 And moving 
 The presence of beauty. So came truth descending, 
 
 Alighting, 
 Like the gush of that music, attending. 
 
 Delighting, 
 My soul's every fiber, and hushing. 
 
 Yea, stilling 
 Irreverent thought. It alighted so gently, 
 
 And sweetly. 
 No daintiest chord was jarred, I listened intently, 
 
 And meekly. 
 A moment it paused ere speaking. 
 
 Then trembling, 
 And with rev'rent confusion now waking. 
 
 Dissembling 
 Reason, this question rose struggling. 
 
 Desiring 
 An answer: "Art thou truth, or love, or 
 life?" Staggering, 
 
 Yet cheering 
 My soul. Then spake a voice, not breaking, 
 
 Dividing, 
 Its flow into syllables, but waking 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 39 
 
 From hiding 
 By exquisite emotions, sweet voices to slumbering, 
 
 Retiring, 
 Compelled by reason's gross power; but now 
 
 numbering, 
 
 Choiring 
 A composite harmony sublime; not revealing 
 
 And telling 
 In worrying parts, its message, concealing 
 
 And failing 
 As reason must; but permitting 
 
 And teaching 
 My being to know, by gift befitting. 
 
 And reaching 
 To knowledge divine, the while changing 
 
 Yet holding 
 Its message in unity: "For hearing 
 
 Thine inquiring, 
 I came in haste, sore fearing 
 
 Thy desiring 
 Would lead thee astray." 
 
 A RIDDLE 
 
 A maiden sweet, as yet half child. 
 
 To her lover came one day. 
 
 He clasped her in a rapture wild. 
 
 While she to him these words did say: 
 
 "When we are wed I will come every day 
 And ask you to hold me a while; 
 For my heart would inquire as we speed on our way, 
 If your love is true 'mid joy and trial." 
 
 Soft eyed was she, and golden haired. 
 Her form wore a sweet and tender grace; 
 
40 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 And eyes, and lips, and form required 
 To the query, an answer, she bore on her face: 
 "Just to know that you love me still. 
 
 And cherish me fonder each day. 
 
 My heart will not hunger if only you will ; 
 
 And each fond embrace my love will repay." 
 
 Sweet maid have you not life's riddle unwound? 
 
 If love would be stronger, and faithful each day, 
 
 No coldness would mar, no forgetfulness wound; 
 
 And happiness sweet would perennially stay. 
 If we will but love, and cherish each day. 
 No time will be found, no room for distrust; 
 But as sunshine fills up the bright urn of the day, 
 So the heart will be full of contentment and trust. 
 
 CONFIDENCE 
 I. 
 
 Still let hope live, for love can wait. 
 
 Nor deem thou'rt bound by chains of fate 
 
 That cold, relentless hold thee 
 
 From all the heart cherisheth, 
 
 The soul desires; 
 
 For a Heart of Love enfolds thee, 
 
 A Mind of Love directs thee. 
 
 And Hands of Love make smooth thy way; 
 
 And would He then His own side pierce, 
 
 Set his own laws at variance, 
 
 By holding thee from that thou lovest? 
 
 II. 
 Still let hope live; for time a period is 
 In which are wrought changes marvelous; 
 And barriers which seem eternal. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 41 
 
 Are really only transient. 
 
 Let hope come forth again; 
 
 For though it may seem dead 'twill live again 
 
 If thou but breathe upon it. 
 
 in. 
 
 No power of man can truly die, 
 Save by his own rash act — 
 By wilful choice that it should end, 
 Or silent, awful, sad neglect. 
 
 BOATING 
 
 From out a mossy, scented bank 
 
 A lovely, gilded boat doth glide. 
 
 Two lovers from the cup of beauty drank — 
 
 A man of calm, majestic mien, and his promised bride. 
 
 He strong, reliant, plies the oars. 
 The keel with each proud stroke the waters cleft. 
 She holds the dainty helm, and deftly steers 
 Their course with gentle grace — the woman's gift. 
 
 Sweet music in their hearts was there. 
 The glad, full song of the spring of life. 
 All other beauty was to them less fair 
 Than that of their love, so glad and rife. 
 
 Wrapped in delight they sat. His oars then fell 
 A moment idly; and in playful dalliance they ride, 
 And rock on the dimpling wave; for beauty's magic spell 
 Steeped their senses till they drooped, in sweet langour to 
 confide. 
 
 Then heart to heart soft spake their yearning love. 
 By some sweet way to hearts that are faithful known ; 
 
42 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 As if each to each thoughts reflect, as flowers wave, 
 And see their own fair faces in limpid waters shown. 
 
 Green tufted islets here and there 
 The waters studded, emeralds in crystal band. 
 They too, like the broad leaved plants, in the dreamy air, 
 Seemed rising and falling on the gentle swell, blown by 
 a gentle wind. 
 
 Around their edges like a silken fringe, water lillies grew. 
 Fair emblems of purity, sweet and mild. 
 To pluck and wear them they seemed inviting you. 
 With a plea like the outstretched arms of a little child. 
 
 They gathered the lillies in clusters fair. 
 Nor suffered their beauty nor sweetness to fade, 
 That they might shed their blessings otherwhere. 
 Where suffering and sorrow sorely laid. 
 
 "We shall be late if we longer stay," 
 The voice of the woman thus first was heard. 
 Like sweet strains of music which to our senses stray. 
 And inweave with our dreams, such joy her accents 
 stirred. 
 
 Then waking from happy dream to a happier reality. 
 With merry laugh, he dips the oars; and a purling trail 
 From the carved prow, of pearls like gems of royalty, 
 Shimmer on the water as home they sail. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 43 
 
 QUERIES 
 
 Why must the heart be ever giving, 
 
 And denying; 
 Divide itself apart while living? 
 
 E'er belying 
 Its own reason, its desire, 
 
 Its choosing? 
 Live but a season? Durst not aspire? 
 
 Be ever losing 
 Most of conscious purposing, 
 
 And hoping? 
 
 It in vexed inquiries doth launch us, 
 
 Still cherishing and groping 
 After truth. Why should be that 
 
 Loving, and cherishing, 
 It must its exquisite realities be proving 
 
 By perishing? 
 Like beautiful things which by paining 
 
 Only know they live. 
 
 Why chance it that self's gaining 
 
 Reveals the haggard masks. 
 Fleeting phantoms and vagaries. 
 
 Taunting with 
 Sad greeting? The beggaries 
 Of disappointment. Still I with reverence 
 
 For leading, 
 Inquire what laws require deliverence 
 
 By bleeding 
 From rule of self. Why do endless 
 
 Sorrows, sad failures 
 
 Crowd our days? 
 
44 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 ENGLISH TOMMY'S REPAST 
 
 He was a sheepherder with but one arm. 
 
 When in town he drank freely of what did warm, 
 
 And yet inebriate. He said to his boss 
 
 "I am hungry," who replied, "Go across 
 
 To the restaurant and I will pay 
 
 For your dinner." Tommy said, "Nay. 
 
 Get me some crackers, and an onion raw 
 
 Ard I will show townsmen what they never saw — 
 
 How a sheepherder eats." The boss provided 
 
 Crackers and onion, when Tommy decided 
 
 He needed salt. There stood before the store 
 
 A lump of rock salt weighing a hundred or more 
 
 Of pounds. A handful from this the boss chipped off 
 
 With his knife and gave to Tommy, who with rough 
 
 Manner, and glare as of beast from a den, 
 
 Munched crackers, onion, salt for learning of men. 
 
 A QUEST 
 
 One I had loved, 
 
 And happj'^ had been, 
 
 Till this question proved me 
 
 "Lovest all men?" 
 
 So forth hath my heart gone 
 To learn v/here the v/ay, 
 That love may be sent on 
 And gain widest sway. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 45 
 
 KEEPING SALOON 
 
 Banjo Bill when leaving town 
 
 To be gone a day or two, 
 
 To a pair of young friends said "Keep my saloon 
 
 And you may keep the revenue." 
 
 There was then living in the town 
 
 A bull-whacker, one of whose legs was bent, 
 
 Jimmy Osgood, of local renown. 
 
 Who used his credit as far as it went. 
 
 While asleep in a lodging house one night 
 
 The pillow came open, Jim's head went in; 
 
 He awoke, and picked feathers on learning Ms plight — 
 
 As near to an angel as he grew, I ween. 
 
 Of Tom and Jerry the boys made a bowl, 
 A special fine for their patrons that day. 
 On credit Jimmy drank it up, all. 
 And his large obligation never did pay. 
 
 A PRAYER 
 
 Father but continuance give 
 Of what here I feel and know. 
 
 1 ask no sweeter bliss than just to live 
 With Thee as here, and Thy will do; 
 For even here the joyous chorus 
 
 Of a coming, better age, 
 
 Finds an echo in our song. 
 
 When no longer men will mar the page 
 
 Of life, as it grandly moves along. 
 
46 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 YEARNING 
 
 Rest, my darling, rest; 
 
 And this heart shall be thy pillow. 
 
 Its throbbing shall be turned to music, 
 
 Soft and soothing, 
 
 Which shall lull your tired spirits 
 
 Into realms of happy dreams, 
 
 Where the soul forsakes this mortal clay. 
 
 And takes its flight 
 
 Through bowers of light. 
 
 On wings of love, 
 
 Into the bliss of eternal day. 
 
 ON THE FALL OF A FRIEND 
 
 Drunken again wert thou? 
 
 So I have been told. 
 
 Sunken again below the grade of beast. 
 
 Polluted by a nauseous filth 
 
 More foul than slime beasts wallow in, 
 
 Pursuing their vilest habit. 
 
 Yet I do not condemn thee, 
 
 Nor still do I condone thy fault; 
 
 For thou hast said in sim'lar state, 
 
 That "All man's deeds both good and bad, 
 
 Are judged of God," whom 
 
 Thou knowest that He is. 
 
 Then the thought doth struggle: 
 How equal doth the pure and foul 
 Hold place within the heart of man. 
 And in man's world. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 47 
 
 The line dividing them is as the line 
 
 Dividing sunlight from the shadow; 
 
 A step well nigh invisable, 
 
 Is all we need to bear us 
 
 From the blessed sweets of purity, 
 
 To the rancid mire of foulness. 
 
 How swift the growth of sinful resolution! 
 
 As swift as sight it seemeth. 
 
 And how fast the fall ! 
 
 One moment we may cast our vision upward 
 And see a man in all an angel's comeliness, 
 And the next cast down our eyes in horror, 
 And see him spaces hurled below, 
 Distort with all the ugliness of demon. 
 
 How faint the bounds oft seem 
 E'en in the lawful things of life — 
 To cross a line is wrong, excess. 
 It often seemeth that 
 The very luxury of good, of life. 
 Will lead weak men astray. 
 
 I saw a tree so fully laden 
 With sweetest, luscious fruit 
 That its limbs were broken, 
 And the fruit was lost. 
 
 Thy fall almost doth make me say 
 
 "It is no use to strive to help you more.'* 
 
 Yet thy claim upon me is the truth 
 
 Thou art a brother man. 
 
 Helpless bruised, enfouled — 
 
 Thy need is thy petition. 
 
48 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 TO A FARMER 
 
 He: 
 
 "The winds have blown away the rains. 
 The winds are ill. Drouth dries the veins 
 Of every growing thing. What worth the pains 
 Of planting?" 
 
 Answering Voice: 
 "0 do not chide the winds; 
 For, as the trusted guide who finds 
 The water fails, mid desert sands, 
 
 Have they returned to bring you more, 
 Knowing that their vessels bore 
 Too little for your needs before." 
 
 And so the faithful winds blew still, 
 Unheeding all man's plaint of ill. 
 And larger did their vessels fill 
 For his refreshing. 
 
 ETERNITY 
 
 O have you heard a master player 
 
 Caress his charmed lyre? 
 
 And out his bursting passion pour 
 
 In a yet more charmed air? 
 
 And felt the sweet, ecstatic power 
 
 In soul, by his music overbore? 
 
 And still, when changing years are gone. 
 Doth not the memory sweet remain? 
 But should time or death the memory dim, 
 Reality a being eternal may claim. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 49 
 
 Then sing in triumph when by doubt oppressed, 
 When from you your faith scoffers would wrest; 
 For conscious delight, or knowing, or pain. 
 Are pillars for witness we may turn to again ; 
 And from heart and mind that truth have known, 
 Ca 1 never be taken what once has been. 
 
 OUT OF DOORS 
 
 Hear the murmur of the waters 
 As they softly glide, and mingle; 
 See rise and fall so gently 
 The limpid, tender bosom. 
 Like the soft, convulsive motion 
 Stirred in a sleeper's happy dream. 
 Feel the balmy south wind kissing 
 Cheek, and fern and nodding flower. 
 See the warm and golden sunlight 
 Bathing all with mellow splendor. 
 View the flowers along the border 
 Drooped in artless admiration 
 Of their own reflected beauty. 
 As, not enough were matchless beauty, 
 They murt multiply their charms. 
 Now are fainting senses bathed 
 With a spray of richest odors. 
 Hear the wood bird in the arbor — 
 Pure delight expressed in music — 
 Hush his voice a while and listen 
 While the vibrant wings of silence 
 Waft his song with cadent motion 
 To the farthest leafy recess; 
 Then, ere it dies, he swells his throat 
 And pours again his bursting air. 
 
50 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Meeting, mingling, and confusing 
 With his uttered song new measures 
 Till nature's vast can scarce contain 
 All the luxury of such beauty. 
 
 SALVATION 
 
 escape they sin, dear erring child; 
 For thine endless torment sad would be, 
 Thy pure desires, nobleness, love and constancy 
 Must be associate forever with baseness, lust, de- 
 pravity. 
 The noble light of purity and rectitude 
 That shineth in you. 
 
 Would shine to illumine ulcerous loathsomeness. 
 Like a captive thou'd be bounden stout. 
 And made to look upon, while thy baser self, 
 Like a brutal tyrant, would put thy powers 
 To low use, and sickening corruption. 
 Thus in twain would thou ever be divided. 
 
 When soars the soul to God, 
 
 Desires the pure, sees and aspires. 
 
 Yet grovels in the meshes of the flesh. 
 
 Which rule to opposite ends, pervert, destroy, 
 
 Is not this torment? 
 
 To escape thou must win thy wayward heart 
 
 Again to ways of purity and honor, by God's help, 
 
 As the artist toils to form shapeless clay 
 
 To the likeness of the image in his thought. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 51 
 
 "IN UNION THERE IS STRENGTH" 
 
 I saw two flowers blooming by the road 
 
 Which tangled in the copse, and stately wood, 
 
 Their dainty stems entwined, making one, 
 
 As though upon one stock they both had grown. 
 
 Their colors dipped and mingled, richly sweet. 
 
 Both bathing in a lotion rare, and deep. 
 
 Till the violet hue of one, the other's yellow tone, 
 
 Though heightened, still blended — showed as one. 
 
 So may thou man, and woman fair, 
 
 Gain each the strength of other, and thine own wear. 
 
 ABNEGATION 
 
 I 
 Has she loved me? 
 Does she love me? 
 So young she seems 
 That scarcely can she know 
 The power and dignity of love. 
 
 II 
 
 And yet, I fancy, has her love 
 Begun to sweetly move within her. 
 And creep with blind advance. 
 Like the bulbed head of a growing vine, 
 (Propelled by no intelligence 
 Than the instinct of its nature) 
 Which ever pushes onward, and finds 
 With sense unerring some rock, 
 Or tree to cling upon. 
 
52 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BL00M3 
 
 III 
 
 So may I forsooth, 
 
 Be to her a rock or sturdy oak whereon 
 Her love may twine its tendrils, 
 Until they come to bloom. 
 
 IV 
 
 And e'en though my heart may not 
 Their fragrance sweetly gather, 
 Another heart will bear the blossoms, 
 And be gladdened by their perfume. 
 
 CITY AND SOUL 
 
 Part One 
 
 In tropic lands where gentle winds 
 
 Blow soft o'er verdant plains, 
 
 Where with lavish hand sweet beauty spends 
 
 Her choicest art in voluptuous strains. 
 
 By a murmuring rill in a nestling vale, 
 
 A fold in the lap of nature, 
 
 Enwrapped from chill, encircled from gale, 
 
 Where plenty's fair breasts are spilling their nurture, 
 
 In sweet distress, for the gentle press 
 
 Of her own maternal abundance, 
 
 O'ergrowing with moss, enwreathed with grass, 
 
 Is a crumbling ruin. On this mound once 
 
 Stood, rich in gold and freemen bold, 
 
 A city which ruled a fair domain. 
 
 The legend old is often told 
 
 Its waste and ruin to explain. 
 
 Its walls were laid from quarried bed, 
 
 Facades with chiseled beauty shone; 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 53 
 
 So rich her trade her marts were spread 
 In many a land and distant zone. 
 
 Its wealth grew more. With added store 
 
 Came pride, and wealth's unrest. 
 
 It made useless wars, and burdens sore 
 
 Laid on vanquished, all poor oppressed, 
 
 Till their hearts were turned. Within them burned 
 
 Rebellious fires, resentment, hate. 
 
 Then rulers learned the truth they spurned: 
 
 A people's love is the bond of state. 
 
 For, when conquering horde with ruthless sword, 
 
 O'er ran their land, and laid it waste. 
 
 No call was heard, no emotions stirred 
 
 To loyalty, the wealth enslaved, and vassal breast. 
 
 She no pity gave, and none would have. 
 
 The despoilers' mailed hand fell sore. 
 
 They none did save, and nought would leave 
 
 Of beauty and glory that had been before. 
 
 But when ruin did brood o'er the place where had 
 
 stood 
 The city, like spirit of evil. 
 Soft tears were shed, by her spoilers 'tis said, 
 For her fall, and her beauty's dishevel. 
 
 In the place of her marts, and halls of her courts. 
 
 Where her glad, merry life had used to flow 
 
 For the sweet ring of harp, and warmth of hearts 
 
 Of her people, as they went to and fro; 
 
 All blackened and marred, but shapeless piles stared. 
 
 Like a look in the face when reason has flown, 
 
 When ear had late heard the hard, cruel word. 
 
 And the pain and despair were fixed as in stone. 
 
 As the soft light played o'er ruin'd colonade 
 Grim shadows posed like ghosts of the past; 
 
54 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 And zephyrs strayed, and faint moan made 
 
 Like the wail of the dead who findeth no rest; 
 
 And wild things come, and find a home 
 
 In places where palaces lordly stood; 
 
 The fields unsown are with tares overgrown; 
 
 And nothing is fair, or fruitful, or good. 
 
 Part Second 
 
 On a glad bright morn, a child was born. 
 And round him a halo of rosy hopes shown. 
 With tender concern for him did yearn 
 Fond hearts, holding his joy over their own. 
 To him was given the wealth of heaven, 
 A heart and mind for service of good. 
 Nature had striven with life's best leaven. 
 And made him a child of her happiest mood. 
 
 The rosy years which knew no cares 
 Hymned by like the drone of busy bee. 
 Till the man appears and bravely dares 
 To launch amain on life's great sea. 
 And fortune poured from bursting hoard, 
 Rich gain in trade for industry's coin; 
 For ne'er hath fared a toiler hard 
 Who doth the right with effort join. 
 
 Ere long his store brought ease and power. 
 And then rich blessings turned a curse. 
 Like manna pure, the which, if more 
 Than need were kept, bred worms and worse. 
 
 Can a heart know love, or can it move 
 
 With the higher instincts of a beast, 
 
 And life receive, know her who gave 
 
 It life, then smite that gentle, loving breast? 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 55 
 
 Yet God gave all, both great and small, 
 Of everything men have or know; 
 And in judgment hall, and myrrh and gall 
 To his son their love and kinship show. 
 
 His heart grew hard, and cold toward 
 His kind who wrought in lowly ways. 
 No abundance shared, no hopeful word 
 Spoke to those whom sorrows pressed always. 
 Then men's hearts turned from him who spurned 
 The simple virtue of their toil. 
 Then he learned by pain he earned 
 That love is existence's wine and oil. 
 
 For in a night, his wealth took flight, 
 
 And left him empty, broken, poor; 
 
 For things of weight and things of sight 
 
 Fill not the soul's depleted store. 
 
 False pride upheld and made a shield 
 
 From pity's soft, refreshing dew; 
 
 And he strong rebelled, and stout repelled 
 
 Kind hearts whom his sore suffering drew. 
 
 But within him cried a heart that bled 
 From a wound within its living place. 
 Like a captive tied to a stake, and made 
 To yield fiendish joy to a barbarous race; 
 Or like poor slaves by their master bound 
 Who moan in the night for their cruel chains; 
 Or winter winds making dismal sound 
 As they sigh through caves, and woody lanes. 
 
 If you could weep in sorrow deep 
 
 For the waste of the city fair. 
 
 Your pity sweet, O do not keep 
 
 From a heart that is grieving so lone and sore. 
 
56 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 For nature kind doth truer find 
 
 The good, the beautiful use in all; 
 
 And she hath twined as though to bind 
 
 Their hurts, her tendrils soft o'er each broken wall. 
 
 'Tis but a way that she doth say, 
 That in all God allows, some beauty lives; 
 And waste of fray, e'en a wicked lie. 
 To service of good its help must give. 
 Do you pity then? Pour in oil and wine, 
 And the cruel wound may yet be healed. 
 Know the desolation in the soul of man, 
 Is sadder than ruin of city revealed. 
 
 FAITH OUT OF BITTERNESS 
 
 Blow, blow, you fleeting, hissing snow flakes, 
 Which rise like spray on the spotless waste. 
 Ye are companions to my thoughts. 
 Yet, however wildly and aimlessly you blow, 
 God's winds still point your way; 
 And ye shall rest somewhere, sometime, 
 In a ravine, or sheltered cove, 
 On the bosom of the kindly earth. 
 She shall hug you to herself. 
 However fancifully you roam. 
 Whither shall we flee from God's presence? 
 
 AN INSCRIPTION 
 
 Beneath this lid are treasures hid 
 More precious far than gold. 
 Within these words, there may be heard 
 Sweet strains of love I have never told. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 57 
 
 DIANA'S MIRROR 
 
 I saw 
 A little dimpling lake 
 
 Hiding, 
 A lovely, tangled brake 
 
 Shading. 
 
 Looking 
 Into its limpid, liquid depths 
 
 Quaking 
 With timorous, simple modesty, 
 
 Lying 
 On its pearly, swelling bosom, 
 
 Playing 
 With gentle, rhyming motion. 
 
 Composing 
 A harmony, I saw 
 
 Reposing 
 There a perfect cosmic miniature; 
 
 A painting, 
 (But in daintier, finer lires. 
 
 Tinting, 
 But in fainter, softer hues, 
 
 Blending, 
 All of tender, lovely beauty, 
 
 Lending 
 Perfectness,) of the beauties of the heavens. 
 
58 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 A WRAITH 
 
 Morpheus, of Somnus born, 
 
 He who rules o'er realms of dreams, 
 
 Forth poured vapors from his horn ; 
 
 And on my senses fell a sleep. 
 
 My spirit loosed soon wandered far, 
 
 In sportive mood 'mid happy scenes. 
 
 My soul was filled with happy thought; 
 And in my joy, there came the form 
 Of one whose presence pleasure brought. 
 As though, obeying a fond desire 
 (Which springs in hearts attuned to love. 
 And unexpressed has power to move 
 The vibrant soul in sweet accord,) 
 That drew her to her lover's side. 
 
 She came, I gazed, longed to caress. 
 The one whose presence seemed so sweet; 
 But when I would have asked a kiss. 
 My sweet enchantress fled away; 
 And with her passing, passed the spell. 
 
 PARTING 
 
 Thou are departing; 
 
 And does the grief oft oppress thee? 
 
 Wilt thou feel: How little 
 
 Is one heart's sorrow in a world? 
 
 As thou shalt pass in fancy, 
 
 And in form the thousands of men 
 
 Strange to thee, who know not thy qualities? 
 
 Does a jewel shine less brightly 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 59 
 
 Since there are many? 
 
 Does music rise less sweetly 
 
 When it is unheard? 
 
 No. And a heart which lives, 
 
 And feels and sorrows, 
 
 Holds its own lights and music. 
 
 More precious than those of gem or harp. 
 
 Know thy heart goest not a lone way. 
 
 It bearest those of us, thy friends. 
 
 TO ALICE 
 
 I think of you 
 
 When the morning lifts 
 
 The leaden weight of sleep 
 
 From off my eyes; 
 
 And while the day doth fill 
 
 Its golden urn; 
 
 And as the evening shades grow on, 
 
 And the real doth fade 
 
 Into shades of fancy, 
 
 As fades the light; 
 
 Likewise in the night. 
 
 When thoughts are free 
 
 To do their pleasure. 
 
 As an inmate of my being art thou. 
 Thou dost come and go therein 
 As freely as the sound of music. 
 The portals of my soul 
 Swing wide for thee. 
 As thou art passing; 
 As though responding 
 To a charmed touch. 
 Everything doth conjure thee 
 
60 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Within my heart — 
 The rustling of a woman's dress, 
 A smile, a pose, or accent in a voice. 
 Every thought doth wander to thee. 
 Dear, I often think of you. 
 
 A CITY BY THE MINES 
 
 Sweet are your airs as a breath of love, 
 
 As soft as a touch of kindness. 
 
 Thy gardens are as fair with flowers 
 
 And fruits, as corners of Paradise. 
 
 Thou sittest in a latitude and altitude 
 
 When combined, which make thine influence 
 
 Nothing else than magical, giving health to body, 
 
 And delicious inspiration to the soul. 
 
 Days are bright in other lands. 
 
 Thine have a crystal brightness. 
 
 Seen from the north at close range 
 
 Thy trees, homes, stores, mills and hoists 
 
 Rise in terraces. Thou art 
 
 "A city set upon a hill," and at a distance dost appear 
 
 A gem inset in the robe of nature. 
 
 "As the mountains are round about Jerusalem," 
 
 So a majestic circlet girdeth thee. 
 
 Around whose crags there often play 
 
 Lights and hues which seem let down 
 
 From a fairer, purer world than this. 
 
 Passions base and strong, 
 
 Have roared through you, as fire 
 
 Roars up the throat of a furnace. 
 
 Bawds (for most part) sang and danced, 
 
 While all drank, and strewed their silver 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 61 
 
 In thy "Bird Cage." Yet a few known 
 
 To better fame have played there. 
 
 Thy gambling games had 
 
 "No limit but the ceiling." 
 
 Ruffians quarreled about divisions of unholy pelf 
 
 And shot each other down in squads, 
 
 But molested little honest men. 
 
 These latter made great mines, large enterprises. 
 
 Great suits by great lawyers 
 
 Were tried in thy forum. One has said: 
 
 "The best good fellowship I have ever known 
 
 I enjoyed in these environs." 
 
 Love played here her tender part; and virtue 
 
 Sterner, stronger than is usual stayed. 
 
 And paid the larger part who wooed her. 
 
 Intrepid Schieffelin braved Apache scalping knives 
 
 To discover thee, his "Tombstone," 
 
 As one tauntingly predicted. 
 
 He sleeps on the site of his camp 
 
 'Neath a shapely pile of granites, 
 
 Which one night shielded him from savage wrath, 
 
 Formed like a miner's monument 
 
 That marks the boundary of his claim. 
 
 Some disliking thy lugubrious name 
 
 First proposed Richmond; 
 
 The east end some tried to name New Boston; 
 
 But the spirit of frontier sportsmanship prevailed. 
 
 Men with Midas' touch compelled 
 
 Thy catacombs to up-yield 
 
 Millions in gold and silver; 
 
 But thou, like nursing dam. 
 
 Gave thy treasure to build other cities. 
 
 And art thyself left desolate. 
 
62 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 THE BIRD CAGE 
 
 One story will suffice to guage 
 
 The character of the old "Bird Cage," 
 
 To Lewis' Wolfville Stories known, 
 
 A variety theater in quaint Tombstone. 
 
 A young doctor lived in San Jose, 
 
 Who wooed a maid with the poesy 
 
 Of love; who gave her heart 
 
 Upon exchange of vows they should never part. 
 
 She gave to him her virtue too 
 In the fond belief he would be true; 
 But when his passion he did sate 
 He left her to the saddest fate. 
 
 The lessons learned from him so well 
 
 She practiced with others, and speedily fell, 
 
 Because her love had been so high, 
 
 A space like the span from earth to sky. 
 
 He came to Tombstone, and soon she 
 Came also, feeling where he was she must be. 
 He practiced medicine, was respected, 
 And, of course, his erstwhile love neglected. 
 
 Possessed of grace and beauty rare 
 She was much sought after. Frenzied despair 
 Made her wildly wanton — so deep her hurt. 
 She danced on the stage clad in a short shirt. 
 
 When the doctor saw the sad wreck he had wrought 
 
 Belated, for reparation, he thought 
 
 To marry her, and did. "Outrage 
 
 For him to marry a woman out of the 'Cage.' " 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 63 
 
 His friends said. But he told his part 
 In her fall. They did soon depart 
 For San Francisco. Though she had 
 Now her love, her past so vile and sad, 
 
 Was more than her weary soul could bear ; 
 And in their hostel, when a deep despair 
 Enveloped her, so for release her spirit cried, 
 She took poison, and by her own act, died. 
 
 A HYMN 
 
 How often, 'mid trials, 
 
 The Saviour's hand has led me ! 
 
 His love, 'mid denials. 
 
 Still tenderly has fed me. 
 
 How much should I love Him, 
 And do His holy will! 
 None else is above Him. 
 May my soul He fill. 
 
 THE MASTODON OF CURTIS' FLAT 
 
 Great beast of an enormous age ago. 
 
 Thy great height, and bulk, and power^ 
 
 Must have mated other forces of thy time. 
 
 Creature of a manless age. 
 
 Late man has called thee "Tit-Tooth." 
 
 What were thy thoughts about a name? 
 
 What flashes of consciousness had'st thou? 
 
 What scenes looked you upon? 
 
 Upon what plenteous forage to support 
 
64 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Thy great frame didst thou feed? 
 
 What lesser creatures didst thou dominate? 
 
 What enemies more powerful 
 
 Brought terror oft in sleeping, waking? 
 
 What uses then had your ten-foot 
 
 Tusks of ivory? What commerce sought 
 
 To utilize you and your possessions? 
 
 So long, long, long ago you lived 
 
 You must have been nearer God than we are. 
 
 The earth then was vastly newer, fresher. 
 
 Did vaster, freer thrills you course through 
 
 Than are permitted to us men? 
 
 And was thy giant form product of such boons? 
 
 Sure thou filledst a place, supplied a link 
 
 In God's great endless plan of creation. 
 
 Thou wert happy, useful, tired and sad. 
 
 We restless, seeking, inquiring men 
 
 Wish some power enduring as your swampy bed 
 
 Could have preserved thy thought, 
 
 The songs thou heardest, the scenes thou sawest. 
 
 Perhaps they would not have been so different 
 
 From those our imaginations create, 
 
 Yet we long to know, to see, to hear. 
 
 We are glad you stayed to our time 
 
 Fellow creature, fellow worker. 
 
 It is a pity though that only the perishable 
 
 Of you remained; but it must be, 
 
 Since clay and rock are friendly 
 
 To their brother mold, 
 
 The Creator of us all has made a place, 
 
 And means provided, wherein, whereby to store 
 
 The finer, eternal stuff in you and me. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 65 
 
 A DREAM 
 
 A season of failure had over me swept 
 
 Awearied I laid me down and slept. 
 
 I dreamed I labored with tools and team, 
 
 Dusty and heavy the work did seem. 
 
 At last I looked on a smooth, plowed field, 
 
 I said: "Some other can make it yield." 
 
 A road ran over a high steep hill. 
 Standard, with cut, and drain and fill. 
 My labor had finished it also, new, 
 For comfort and use of me and you. 
 
 A little field, a short stretched road; 
 Yet a yield of grain, a lightened load, 
 A little home, a plain marked way 
 Were left to others from my work day. 
 
 THE DESERT 
 
 I may not sing of English copse. 
 
 Or sweet-filled haunts. 
 
 Of tarn, or woodland 
 
 Or fresh plowed, billowy fields; 
 
 But may of deserts far reaching, 
 
 Barren as tho' cursed. 
 
 Yet like a virgin unwed 
 
 Hiding all increase of loveliness 
 
 In her bowels. 
 
 Spanning spaces like another 
 
 Still, dead sea; 
 
 Of mountains like Horeb 
 
 Majestic, ranged around 
 
66 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 In great, uneven parapets, 
 
 Giant built of old; 
 
 Of creeks which slyly creep 
 
 Over the surface a while, \ 
 
 Then silently sink away; 
 
 Of bear grass tufts. 
 
 And rabbit haunts. 
 
 Like little cave cities, 
 
 Scooped out in wind reared mounds; 
 
 Of mirage, trembling in well nigh 
 
 Viewless waves, but filling 
 
 All the valley with its deep, 
 
 Transparent, airy, sun-warmed flood; 
 
 Of sunset glories; 
 
 And rainbow tinted hills; 
 
 Rough crags which seem 
 
 Great wrecks of older building, 
 
 Beat down irregularly 
 
 By relentless tides of time. 
 
 Yet standing, serene and restful, 
 
 Like sentinels keeping watch 
 
 Over a sleeping past. 
 
 Though it is an Ishmael land 
 
 Where every plant's grim, spiny hand 
 
 Is against every man; 
 
 Yet the Chollas rear their seven candle sticks; 
 
 The Ocatillos bear aloft their torches, 
 
 And march in serried ranks 
 
 Up the treeless slopes; 
 
 The Yuccas, like sentinels 
 
 Wrapped in military cloaks, dot all the plain, 
 
 Standing faithfully on guard; and at flowering 
 
 Each yields a bushel of creamy blooms. 
 
 The tang of pungent perfumes 
 
 Reacts on the senses like a stimulant. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 67 
 
 And the mocking bird finds not time 
 
 To sing her bliss in long summer days; 
 
 But awakes often in the beauteous, moonlit nights 
 
 From melody overflowing from her mouth. 
 
 Truly, the desert has subtle charms. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY A DREAM 
 
 After the flight of years 
 
 A noble soul is like an old jewel case. 
 
 Within there are found many things 
 
 So small they would else be scattered, 
 
 Trodden under foot and lost; 
 
 But having safe asylum in their case 
 
 They lie, small, yet most precious 
 
 Of all one's possessions. 
 
 Some may be dislodged from their mountings, 
 
 May be chipped on the edges; 
 
 Yet still they remain the rarest. 
 
 Most beautiful, most precious 
 
 Accumulations of the soul. 
 
 THE IDEAL AND REAL 
 
 I have craved leisure 
 
 In which to meditate ; 
 
 Pursue truth, beauty 
 
 And high emprise. 
 
 I have been granted the boon 
 
 Of glimpsing such beauty 
 
 And thinking such exalted thoughts 
 
 Possible, as I sawed wood; 
 
 Or listened to the quarrels 
 
68 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 And troubles of people 
 In practice of the law; 
 Or made abstracts of tangled titles. 
 
 I have tried to listen to music, 
 
 Soft, trembling on the strings. 
 
 And have had interjected 
 
 The puff of an engine, 
 
 Clang of a cow bell. 
 
 Thump of a blacksmith's hammer, 
 
 Bray of jackass, cock's crow, dog's bark. 
 
 And all a neighborhood's prosaic sounds. 
 
 I have craved love. 
 
 Big, generous, uplifting. 
 
 I have found pettiness, suspicion. 
 
 If one is willing to stoop 
 
 To lust, nonsense, the dance, 
 
 The drunken joy ride, 
 
 The course is easy. 
 
 But if one has ideals, 
 
 Walks in paths of purity, 
 
 Thinks things worth while, 
 
 He need not look for love there 
 
 (Except the love of God) 
 
 For love's wings are glued to earth 
 
 By sordidness. 
 
 Gold, it is said, has cost more 
 In human effort and outlay, 
 Than it is worth; that is, 
 Match expenditure of all men 
 In its quest, with the visible supply. 
 And more has been expended 
 Than has been realized. 
 You say "Unwise methods, 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 69 
 
 Unwisdom in expenditure, 
 Bungling, are responsible." 
 So incongruous necessity, 
 Harsh, grating noises. 
 Low, silly customs. 
 Shut us from great, lovely things. 
 And make them seem to cost 
 More than they are worth. 
 
 MIKE, THE CROW 
 
 When but a wee fledgling Mike was caught. 
 Was straightway to the city brought. 
 And soon became quite reconciled 
 To be the playmate of a child. 
 
 Dick, Mike's owner, thought it quite funny 
 To let Mike filch from his pocket money. 
 Lifting a dollar, Mike knew its use to perfection, 
 And to church tower flew to put it in the collection. 
 
 Whatever things that Mike could fetch 
 Were brought home. It is no stretch 
 That the inner tube of a bicycle tire 
 Mike brought home safely, to the owner's ire. 
 
 Long Mike was treated and named as a male, 
 Till a thing happened which makes a strange tale; 
 A stick nest was built, such as crows like, 
 Then all knew Mike must be Mrs. Mike. 
 
 A lady planted her garden seed 
 
 With Mike for company. Mike gave close heed 
 
 Just how and where each seed was placed, 
 
 Dug them up, had her wings clipped, was disgraced. 
 
70 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Wherever she was fed Mike returned, 
 A little dog's bark she unaided learned; 
 When the butcher gave no heed to her caw, 
 She barked, till he to her needs saw. 
 
 When her owner walked along the street 
 Mike flew to his shoulder in order to greet 
 Him. Against his lips she placed her beak. 
 And thus her love would mutely speak. 
 
 She flew at liberty about the town. 
 
 And such was her wisdom few did frown 
 
 At her petty misdeeds; but a miscreant wild 
 
 Shot her. He might most as well have shot the child. 
 
 Dick, with the aid of his sisters and brothers. 
 
 Hollowed a grave, just as do others 
 
 Who lose a loved one, and buried their pet, 
 
 With an ache in their hearts they will not soon forget. 
 
 TWO CIVILIZATIONS 
 
 Out just beyond the city's line 
 
 A civilization new I find; 
 
 Yet more ancient far than men can boast, 
 
 That of insect, beast and feathered host. 
 
 Each rules himself. They have no king. 
 Nor jail, or scaffold; and no such thing 
 As vice. Their sexes mingle but to breed. 
 Only men are vile, and such corrections need. 
 
 If they are not marshalled for defense, 
 Neither fear they organized offense. 
 Though they singly on each other prey. 
 They outstrip men but a little way. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 71 
 
 They have the freedom of disorder in their wider domain; 
 But are artists and architects in things which pertain 
 To their homes. The silk lined portals of the spider's den, 
 The bird's woven nest, mock the cunning of men. 
 
 What prima donna in opera grand 
 
 Can sing like a mocking bird, as she doth stand, 
 
 On topmost twig, or straight up leaps on white disc'd 
 
 wings, 
 In the same spot lights, and in ecstasy sings? 
 
 The coyote's yodle and frenzied yell. 
 
 Bird obligato to the monotonous trill 
 
 Of crickets for orchestra, frog's croak, killdee's call, 
 
 Are without the scope of men's notation, all. 
 
 For transportation, conservation see squirrel, ant, rat; 
 An ant which covers wood, refuse, with mud veneer that 
 Affords shelter, mellows food; and the bee 
 Which uses aerial transport better than we. 
 
 They have beauty of plumage, fur and wing; 
 And a worm which, dying, curls, a humble thing. 
 Leaves carved lines of beauty on its fragile shell, 
 A human artist can scarce excel. 
 
 They court and mate, work and play, 
 Are sick and well, sad and gay. 
 Why, more of their secrets do I not reach? 
 I am a foreigner, and know not their speech. 
 
72 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 JAMES EDWARD ELLIOTT 
 
 Scarce four months with us you tarried 
 
 Until your infant spirit hurried 
 
 Back to God. Or, did you only vaguely draw 
 
 Heaven's curtain, till you saw 
 
 This world of toil, and grief and pain, 
 
 And in Paradise shrink back again? 
 
 Although you were so small a child 
 
 Your sister said that thrice you smiled 
 
 Before you left. May it not be 
 
 That angel children, with celestial glee, ^ 
 
 Had grasped your tiny hand and said, 
 
 **Come with us?" While we mortals thought you dead. 
 
 CONSERVATION 
 
 Forces of destruction are withal 
 
 True conservators. Water drowns, 
 
 Mud mires; but a shell, a bone 
 
 Is sheltered eons long in a crevice, 
 
 Or by surrounding mold, becoming parts 
 
 Of strata miles in thickness. 
 
 Vesuvius, with great convulsions, 
 Spewed forth hot lava flows 
 Which buried fair Pompeii; 
 But saved for us upon her walls 
 Are signs of elections then imminent; 
 A tavern keeper's urn with water 
 Still held within, as when he mixed 
 Spicy wines for his lusty patrons; 
 And other forms of Roman life were 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 73 
 
 Arrested then and held intact, 
 For subsequent instruction. 
 
 Jewish rulers when they placed 
 A guard at the tomb of Christ, 
 Sought to make sure the proof 
 That he arose not; but only clinched 
 The fact that he did arise. 
 
 Blind, narrow partisans defeated him 
 Who sought to league together 
 The governments of earth for peace, 
 Thinking they had destroyed his work. 
 They have only isolated and preserved it, 
 And placed it -^vithin the power of them. 
 Or any one, to discover plainly, 
 In all time, its true author. 
 
 TRAILS 
 
 A bull shoe, a cast off frying pan, 
 A broken shovel, a rusted can. 
 Leading to shaft, deserted camp, 
 (Cast off as truly,) I saw on my tramp. 
 
 Are these signs all men leave to trace 
 
 Achievements? Is there no place 
 
 Where strewn the relics lay 
 
 Of man's accomplishments? In his day 
 
 A great heart lived and loved. 
 
 Another fought and wrought. Both moved 
 
 On. What signs have they 
 
 Scattered along their lives' dim way? 
 
74 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Some think he who sought the harlot and the bowl, 
 
 Who strove, who advertised his role 
 
 Lived most. But what of him 
 
 Who kept his virtue deep within 
 
 His own bosom? Who wrought 
 
 Within his spirit's power, and thought? 
 
 Who across man's life's true vale 
 
 Left the imperishable trail? 
 
 DIRECTION 
 
 The soul lives. 
 
 The body is but a bond 
 
 Which binds elusive elements 
 
 In integer; but a circumference 
 
 In which compressed 
 
 Are, elastic and rebellious essences, 
 
 So held to beauty and to use. 
 
 Love must be so confined. 
 
 So have a body, or its elements 
 
 Will fly like heated air 
 
 To every variant point 
 
 Of a cycle infinite; 
 
 And man, limited to direction. 
 
 Can never overtake the fleeting things 
 
 Which compose it; for they 
 
 Will fly before, behind, 
 
 To right, to left, up and down. 
 
 To every opposite, while he 
 
 Goes on one way; and thus 
 
 Will his soul be torn, and toyed with. 
 
 Happier is a laborer 
 
 Content in simple mind, to love 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 75 
 
 And live with one, than is he 
 Who wings widest realms, 
 With largest mind; but fails 
 To love in singleness of heart 
 Who lives at eventide alone, 
 And dies empty. 
 
 PRAYER 
 
 Many a home knows a sweet uplifting 
 And upon many a troubled spirit 
 Falls a benediction like sweet night-rest, 
 When some one prays. 
 
 THE MINER 
 
 You know him by the heave and bulk of his shoulders 
 From hammering the drill, sinking from surface boulders 
 To heated regions, in search of the metal 
 Which makes engine, or watch, or copper kettle. 
 
 He has a nose for ore, and bores like a mole 
 
 His shaft, drift, winze, upraise, every species of hole; 
 
 And by his candle or carbide light 
 
 Follows lead, stringer, chute with accurate sight 
 
 No less than magical. Of one they do say 
 
 He had driven a drift a long stretch away 
 
 From the shaft in search of ore. His partner did tell 
 
 Him to quit. He replied: "I'll drive it to hell. 
 
 I'll either get silver or cinders." He got the ore — 
 
 A great chute of it — all he hoped for and more. 
 
 An Irish miner once was offered 
 
 A gold mine for sale. If the property proffered 
 
76 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Proved good, Pat was minded to buy it; 
 But before doing so determined by sample to try it. 
 When he got his assays he turned it down cold 
 Saying, "There is too much waste for the gold." 
 
 He knows every mine from Ajo to Nome, 
 Is at home everywhere, with never a home. 
 The blast of his powder, his hard, cutting steel 
 Get into his nature, until he does feel 
 And think like those act. Still he is fair, 
 And manly. Miners the bulwark are 
 Of some of our greatest industries. They breathe 
 Air filled with powder gas, and which doth seethe 
 With dust from drill, and muck. They also add 
 Tobacco smoke, and all these make sad 
 Havoc with lungs. Many a miner, a giant 
 In youth, takes "miners' consumption," becomes a suppli- 
 ant 
 For charity (against his pride) who gave place 
 At one time to no one of his race. 
 
 He is a poet, a romancer, not indeed for love 
 Of women, though their charms fail not to move 
 Him; but in his pursuit of that fair dame 
 Called Fortune. No goddess can among men claim 
 More devoted votaries than miners make 
 In their gold lined dreams of making a "stake." 
 
 He is serious, and in most things well controlled; 
 
 Is deeply in earnest in searching for gold. 
 
 Parasites, and v/ild life follow his wake, 
 
 For he spends just as freely what he freely doth make. 
 
 He may dip into the wild life at intervals, but does not 
 
 pursue 
 Such ways as much as some think he must do; 
 But is apart from these things, mostly gives his strength 
 To what makes of a desert a city, at length. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 77 
 
 THE UNION MAN 
 
 Since God made Eden and set man to dress it 
 
 The most valuable thing put in earth to bless it 
 
 Is labor, a union of brain and hand. 
 
 By it cities arise; and the barren land 
 
 Is made to yield. Even Almighty God 
 
 By labor made all things which he called good. 
 
 Since of so great worth men seek to possess it; 
 Have waged wars, hunted slaves, in order to impress it. 
 Of late those whose learning has raised them above 
 Their unschooled fellows, forgetful of love, 
 
 Seek by means less crude, but as cruel to exploit it; 
 At a starvation wage assert they have "bought it." 
 Too much the rich frame governments, enact the laws, 
 Select the courts; and their money employs 
 
 Skilled counsellors, who enforce laws, plead and construe 
 
 them 
 To serve the interests of the rich, who thus view thenx, 
 They control the press, and bias the teacher. 
 And their gifts sometimes will silence the preacher. 
 
 Here the worker arose and laid his great strength out. 
 
 With clear thought he saw his true state at length, but 
 
 Not the finesse of the close knit plan, 
 
 Worked out for his governance by his fellow man. 
 
 Outclassed in all tests of skill, they bereft him 
 
 Of more rights. Using the powers his training had left 
 
 him. 
 He struck out, though blindly at times. 
 More patent to all were the marks of his crimes; 
 
 For the bleeding stumps from his dynamite can 
 
 Are more shocking than wealth's victims, white and wan, 
 
78 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Who starve in silence, and far away, 
 Nor expose their poverty to light of day. 
 
 He has learned to think as well as his employer; 
 Is now more the builder, and less the destroyer. 
 It's a shame that each does the other harm. 
 For the two are Industry's right and left arm. 
 
 He has given to labor a high and firm standing ; 
 And he is half imbecile who insists on disbanding 
 His union. Let labor and capital together endeavor, 
 And peace and prosperity are assured forever. 
 
 THE POLITICIAN 
 
 He is not so bad as to offend the good. 
 
 Nor so good as to offend the bad; 
 
 Is a fair average of those he represents. 
 
 Powerful in opposing right newly recognized, 
 
 Weak in opposing prevalent wrong. 
 
 He follows the crowd he pretends to lead; 
 
 Like low voters in olden days 
 
 Who had to look into their hats 
 
 Before they knew their names. 
 
 He must look into the public mind 
 
 Before he knows his own; 
 
 Look into the public conscience 
 
 Ere he hears any voice of his own. 
 
 He seeks his office for honor, 
 
 Yet is usually the abject tool 
 
 Of some hidden, brutal combination. 
 
 His promises embrace the earth. 
 
 His achievements rattle in a thimble. 
 
 He promises one thing, performs another. 
 
 "A horse is a vain thing for safety," 
 
 And a politician is a vain dependence. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 79 
 
 PAIN 
 
 What kinship exists between 
 The hours of night and pain? 
 That while the first so slowly drag, 
 The other plies its sore fatigue? 
 Dark spirits must night hours infest; 
 For, till dawn chases them into the west, 
 The tortured find no relief in rest. 
 
 Of old men believed that all disease 
 Was caused by demons, who fret and tease 
 Men's nerves and flesh, with impish spite. 
 Who in veins and joints their battles fight. 
 The sufferer who can do naught but wait, 
 Aside, while heat and throb, fit brood of hate, 
 Charge and counter, thinks they were right. 
 
 CLOUDS 
 
 Some will think my fancies wild ; 
 But ever since a little child 
 Clouds for me have held a charm; 
 And, since none they will ever harm, 
 I will write some down. I see 
 In them a never failing beauty. 
 Though ever changing, there remains 
 Always beauty, which disdains 
 All the powers of air can do, 
 Since, in all change, it functions true. 
 
 That speech of form, hue or attitude 
 
 Is not confined to life, may be a platitude; 
 
 But from serene, or stately pose 
 
 Of cloud, my soul takes dignity, or repose. 
 
80 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Fleets of white Argos, which have sailed 
 
 In search of the Golden Fleece, and failed 
 
 Not in their quest, are heaped 
 
 High with shining fleeces, reaped 
 
 From Colchis' sheep. Figure heads 
 
 Adorn their prows; and o'er each spreads 
 
 Its snowy sail. And there flee 
 
 Before them, on, or above the azure sea, 
 
 Beasts and beings of strange form. 
 
 Bearing to us the prophetic charm 
 
 That they presage still other realms 
 
 Than ours, where creative force o'erwhelms 
 
 The forms we know. It is the sphere 
 
 Of fancy, and of change. Clear 
 
 Appear forms, visages, then 
 
 Are changed to other beasts or men ; 
 
 And, wearied with rigid forms and rules. 
 
 We long for change — that fairy tools 
 
 Might carve and mould with as much ease 
 
 Our life forms, to models as we please. 
 
 Men's works, however vast, still fail 
 
 To satisfy, to reach the scale 
 
 Of greatness, and glory they demand. 
 
 By which need, we understand 
 
 They must associate with Deity, 
 
 Ere their souls will know satiety; 
 
 But a splash of color which doth span 
 
 From horizon to horizon, can 
 
 Satisfy. Or a fluffy berg may tower 
 
 To such exalted height, it wields a sim'ler power. 
 
 As a poet's imagination is a cloud-flecked sky, 
 Where form and formless with each other vie. 
 What a riot of colors, too, doth the sense delight, 
 As the daylight shades slowly into night! 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 81 
 
 That all is beauty the mind doth know ; 
 
 And the undefinable is as fair I trow 
 
 As what is reducible to form or hue. 
 
 That distant, unfathomable blue, 
 
 Afar, as a lodestone, draws the soul; 
 
 And other colors typify the whole 
 
 Of life: The innocence of babyhood, the white; 
 
 Pink, the years of ruddy youth's delight; 
 
 Crimson, passion's ardor of mature years; 
 
 Maroon, post-meridian's cooling fires; 
 
 And gray, the time of life's approaching night. 
 
 Then the moon sheds forth an other-worldly light. 
 
 SOCIETY 
 
 Average people in their social contact 
 
 Instead of holding ideals, which straightly react 
 
 To leaven the lump, or savor the mass, 
 
 Look shrewdly around, each trying to guess 
 
 What the other is doing, of good or of harm. 
 
 In order that to either they may smugly conform. 
 
 They act like little pigs in the cold weather. 
 
 Each one tries to snuggle under the other. 
 
 AT FIFTY 
 
 While a child the hum of fly and drone of bee 
 
 Loosed my fancy, and oft led me 
 
 Forth on fancy's wings to thread the wider place 
 
 They thronged; and join the care free race 
 
 Through mystery and romance. This their hum 
 
 Of wing meant to me. Through the sum 
 
 Of half a century's years I have gone. 
 
82 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 With such wings as my soul possessed; done 
 
 For most part my best. Sipped such flowers 
 
 As my region furnished; entered bowers 
 
 Of mystery, love and romance. Still 
 
 The hum of fly, the drone of bee, fill 
 
 Me with the same vague dream. 
 
 True, some of children's mysteries now seem 
 
 Plain to me; but in life's great sphere 
 
 I am as much a child as in yesteryear. 
 
 Though mistakes and failures many I deplore, 
 They have been, since I was little more 
 Than twenty-one, within, and overruled by might 
 Of high resolve. I have been, am facing right. 
 
 I believe in romance, mystery and love 
 As of yore. My heart will move 
 As freely now to these as ever; 
 And I am glad; and hope that never 
 Shall I lose them. Not much of wealth 
 Or power, or wisdom have I. Health 
 Of body, mind and soul are mine. 
 No wife, nor child, whose love refine. 
 Have I gained; but the powers God gave 
 Me, disciplined, and organized I have 
 Intact. I am free to do right. 
 Thus I face, in life's never ending flight, 
 My future, both here, and hereafter. 
 
 REFLECTION 
 
 She looked into his heart 
 
 (O Mirror rare.) 
 
 After drawing its veil apart. 
 
 And saw her face reflected there. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 83 
 
 A RHAPSODY 
 
 When love is true each fond embrace 
 
 Creates for two hearts a new Paradise. 
 
 All sorrows, longings and desires 
 
 Are fused into harmony in its sacred fires. 
 
 Thus mixed is the fire of the spirit with clay 
 
 That life on the earth may continue alway. 
 
 When toil and care almost overwhelm 
 
 Love withdraws the spirit to another realm, 
 
 Or, guides it into deep, hidden retreats. 
 
 Far from life's coldness, and hardness and cheats; 
 
 To storied isles, where stately piles 
 
 Rear their carved facades, 
 
 'Neath fragrant groves, where myrrh and cloves 
 
 Spread their spicy shades. 
 
 Love is metempsychosis in life. 
 
 Wife's soul enters husband, and husband's the wife; 
 
 Yet are not fixed, but freedom retain 
 
 Sans restraint, to enter, and return home again. 
 
 While it merges two lives into one, it is true. 
 
 It also should broaden one life into two. 
 
 Exteriors are not what attract and repel, 
 But love is contented sweetly to dwell 
 Where gentleness, faith and fineness abide, 
 Though warts and moles may cover the hide; 
 And leaves a fair form, and cheeks that are red, 
 Where oppression, meanness and coarseness are hid. 
 
 By giving love we love obtain; 
 
 But the two parts equal do not remain: 
 
 They rise to a summit between the two. 
 
 So that more than the sum of its parts, is true. 
 
84 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 She has her abode upon a high hill 
 Whence she draws all who loves urge feel; 
 And unless her high appeal prevails, 
 Then, most surely, true love fails. 
 
 Love must be an air from on high 
 Which, as fleecy barges of the sky 
 With refreshing vapors laden sail, 
 Bringing help to living things that fail. 
 Sweeps heart and mind and bears away 
 Emotions, thought, far, deep and high, 
 To bounds of tenderness and truth. 
 Of romance, and the dreams of youth. 
 Like to gilded fringes of the clouds; 
 And then, astern the soul's ship crowds 
 All sail, to a higher, fairer land, 
 And leaves the soul on its golden strand. 
 
 As gentle rain to a drooping flov/er 
 So love's delights to a sad soul are. 
 
 Old loves are encysted in the soul 
 
 They lend their aid, but no more control. 
 
 Man and woman trade in kind in love's fair mart. 
 Woman's tenderness for man's strength, pass current 
 in the heart. 
 
 Love is a power on which the soul doth ride. 
 Like a thing which saves the body from an angry tide. 
 Or again, one spirit reclines on the other 
 As an infant rests on the arms of its mother. 
 
 A heart disappointed or bereaved 
 Is like a forest where have raved 
 Fierce fires, leaving spaces and blackened stumps 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 85 
 
 Where stood trees in open ranks or clumps; 
 But as nature restores the forest's green, 
 So love makes beautiful the heart again. 
 
 If one is loved and by neglect 
 
 Such love is lost, the defect 
 
 Is dual: He has lost the love bestowed. 
 
 And that which from his own heart flowed. 
 
 It seems a mortal thing when one lets love die, 
 
 For gruesome, charnel things within the soul lie. 
 
 The heart craves love as a babe does food. 
 Each sucks as hungrily what brings it good ; 
 Though many grow unlovely in quest of love — 
 Unselfishness is submerged, while self rides above. 
 Love is near neighbor to all things fair — 
 Moonlight, sweet scent and soft air — 
 But to all hearts a sister dear. 
 To her e'en angels hover near. 
 
 Love is so high and fine a force. 
 
 As conductor man's nature is so coarse 
 
 That when love comes frankly to a human heart, 
 
 It is abashed, may bid it depart, 
 
 Or dissembles, and love departs rejected; 
 
 Like when brilliant light is suddenly reflected 
 
 Upon eyes accustomed to the night, 
 
 They recoil, close, turn from wholesome light. 
 
 So, seldom does love in a straight course flow. 
 
 But obliquely — the one you love does not love you. 
 
 It hath a method which one may know, 
 And cause its sweet currents to a dear one to flow. 
 An emotion once felt the soul tends to repeat, 
 And love between two a plain path will soon beat. 
 Concerning life's course it makes one wise. 
 To invade shy hearts it boldly tries. 
 
86 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Love at fifty is as young 
 As he was to sweet sixteen; 
 For from Deity has he sprung, 
 And never will grow old, I ween. 
 If late our bosoms have grown cold 
 So we no longer feel his dart. 
 It is ourselves who have grown old. 
 The rosy cherub still plies his art. 
 
 Love works an alchemy rare to behold, 
 For it turns the base and the common to gold. 
 It mingles the essence of two souls in one 
 Like waters of two fountains, shot through by 
 
 the sun. 
 It unites all soul powers like temper of bell, 
 So all voices in chorus harmonious swell. 
 It makes the soul also courageous and leal, 
 In this more resembling the temper of steel. 
 Heart strings with tingling joy are stirred, 
 As though gently down golden flakes were poured. 
 
 liike birds of Paradise which flit in the forest, 
 And songsters which sing to the lead of a chorist, 
 The loves of those who are dearest and best, 
 Flit, and sing of beauty, within a fond breast. 
 
 When lust is gained, and purity lost. 
 The low is obtained at the highest's cost. 
 Though, through abstinence, the pure is preserved. 
 One is richer than though the low were served. 
 
 The softness of down which the eider duck 
 From her own throbbing breast doth pluck 
 To couch her fledglings ; and the caress 
 Of an evening zephyr; the press 
 Of a mother's kiss ; the trembling light 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 87 
 
 In a maiden's eyes, bent on her beloved wight, 
 But shadow forth the tender deeps 
 Of Love, whose kindness never sleeps. 
 
 Love fills the soul with sweetness profuse, 
 Like the odors from Mary's alabaster cruse; 
 Or as a light in the soul doth arise 
 As the sun fills with glory the dome of the skies; 
 Or as a soft glory on the spirit doth shine 
 Akin to shechinah, the glory divine. 
 
 From the soul's deepest caverns love doth draw 
 Sweet vintage of spirit, far hidden below; 
 And as balm brings surcease to pain of the flesh, 
 Love doth heal soul ache, and the spirit refresh. 
 
 Western mountains at sunset, float in an ocean of 
 
 wine. 
 So love bears the soul in an essence divine. 
 Intellect, pride, will, such powers of the soul 
 Must be cushioned in love, if to wed be the goal. 
 
 Feelings arise from out our hearts 
 As mists from off the seas; 
 The former nourish other hearts, 
 As the latter do the grass and trees. 
 
 Love is the Roentgen ray. 
 Heaven is the screen; 
 What we love while here we stay, 
 In perfect beauty there is seen. 
 
88 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 ROBERT HOOD REEVES 
 
 You possessed a breadth and tolerance 
 Big as the wideness of the west; 
 And a gentle charm which won my heart 
 Inhabited your breast. 
 
 Although your soul from your body is gone 
 My spirit refuses to be depressed; 
 But is upborne with a buoyant faith. 
 I cannot feel I am truly distressed. 
 
 Whenever it comes my time to go 
 Your christian virtues I would rather have 
 Than all there is in the world beside. 
 You were fit both to die and live. 
 
 You were simple, and so was Christ. 
 
 Your wealth was the love of human hearts. 
 
 All of your fortune you carried beyond. 
 
 Why should there be gloom when a Christian departs? 
 
 Did my spirit go a way with yours? 
 Exaltation and freedom I felt. 
 All your capacities for joy seemed stretched 
 Gently, to fit you to the realm wherein you dwelt. 
 
 Your spirit went with mine at the hour 
 We were wont to go to the house of prayer, 
 With a joyous hesitance between there and here. 
 Christian joys are the same both here and there. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 89 
 
 AN INDIAN ART GALLERY 
 
 No Doric nor Ionic columns form its front, 
 Nor are its works in snowy marble wrought. 
 Columns, slabs, are granites, which eons bore the 
 
 weather's brunt, 
 And for lights the sun's diurnal rays are caught. 
 
 Figures, with obsidian, are pecked on the granite face: 
 A man shoots an arrow from a bow; 
 Concentric circles, men, anim.als have each a place ; 
 Zig zag lines the trail to water sources show. 
 
 Here wrought some Praxiteles in germ. 
 
 Though his figures are conventional, each space and 
 
 dot 
 Include an aspiration, a psychic term. 
 The striving to express his soul endears the spot. 
 
 Nor may we lightly pass his crude pictures by. 
 
 In his untaught state may it not be 
 
 He took a larger step, in what he thus did try, 
 
 Than the Grecian Master in portraying a Bacchic spree? 
 
 VICARIOUS SACRIFICE 
 
 A Mexican teamster when he drives 
 Two beasts, or three, or four, 
 Picks out the one that hardest strives 
 And him beats, to make him pull the more. 
 
 The man who pays his honest debts 
 
 As usual business goes. 
 
 Must also pay the unpaid debts 
 
 Of the shiftless, else no credit balance shows. 
 
90 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 Christ, the one who had no sin, 
 Who strove with all his strength 
 To bring us good, had laid on him 
 The sins of all the world, at length. 
 
 How noble doth appear the one. 
 Whether beast, or man, or man divine. 
 Who knows the injustice, yet doth not shun 
 The load, the debt, the cross, in fine! 
 
 A WOMAN 
 
 The big, raw west is a man's land. 
 
 There are mines to be sunk, canals to be dug. 
 
 Its rugged ways repel a woman, as the spiny hand 
 
 Of each Ishmael plant forbids you to hug 
 
 It to you. Each such plant that it may 
 Preserve its life, develops a rind 
 Impervious to drought and the burning ray, 
 And so prolongs and propagates its kind. 
 
 Men may take on the rough exterior. 
 Unspoiled women are like flowers which appear 
 (Not that they are in any sense inferior) 
 Only in the rainy season, the oasis of the year. 
 
 She was born in New England, its culture knew. 
 
 Sang like a bird, loved the old masters. 
 
 To her "Jamie" she gave affection true. 
 
 And they established a comfortable home; but disasters 
 
 Soon followed to their fortune by investment 
 In western mines. Sadly she consented 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 91 
 
 To sell their home, and by such divestment 
 Go west, and mend their loss. Repented 
 
 She her sacrifice? Not actually. Her 
 Love like laws of Modes and Persians altered not 
 Once given. She followed her husband where 
 He chose, and with his cast in her lot. 
 
 They lost their remaining property. He 
 Accustomed grew and hardened to the change. 
 And sought the fabled pot of gold. She 
 Clung to her culture, and amid conditions strange 
 
 Sought to touch cabin, shack with the wand 
 Of a homemaker, and succeeded too 
 Measurably; but things most fond 
 To her, she missed. In time she grew 
 
 Like a wife who loves and learns to know 
 
 The man she loves is false, and takes 
 
 Refuge in invalidism, or behind a show 
 
 Of disbelief in his guilt — when her heart breaks 
 
 And pouring out its all cannot draw back. 
 But lives on, exotic; so she grew "queer," 
 Those who knew her said; and in a shack 
 From which but cactus, rocks and cans from year 
 
 To year were seen, she confided 
 
 To another woman, "I have prayed to go 
 
 From where my body, not my soul resided." 
 
 That she went before her time, is it difficult to know? 
 
92 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 HELEN 
 
 Your heart is like an empty house 
 Waiting for a tenant. 
 In haste I will move in, because 
 By doing so I'll own it. 
 
 EVOLUTION 
 
 I startled a sleeping cat. 
 
 Like a flash she leaped on fence, 
 
 Then shed, then barn, whereat. 
 
 Secure, she bent her glance 
 
 On me intently. Our eyes met 
 
 And I was discomfitted. "There shine," 
 
 I said, "all a million years beget, 
 
 And an intelligence older far than mine.' 
 
 JAZZ 
 
 Some one is always taking 
 The pleasure out of life 
 By nearly always making 
 Not for peace but strife. 
 
 I lately saw a photo play 
 
 Of gentle southern life; 
 
 Through tender scenes we heard the bray 
 
 Of jazz both loud and rife. 
 
 Sometimes at shows it's jazz that grates. 
 Or else some gossips meet; 
 Again a swain to windward sits 
 With a pair of stinking feet. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 93 
 
 THE ADAMS NEIGHBORHOOD 
 
 Beauty is an ensemble, has a being, a birth 
 Truly in works of art; and that of Mother Earth 
 Yields in part to the rule. The flaming red 
 Or mellow gold of cactus flowers, the head 
 Of the Yucca adorned with a royal plume; 
 The granite walled dell — a Cyclops' room — 
 The trees, the shade, the steep sloped dome 
 Of mountain, which leads the eye from 
 The lesser to the exalted, all have a part 
 In forming, framing what delights the heart. 
 
 An artist dreams, then puts on cloth or stone 
 
 The being of his dream; but not alone 
 
 Do men thus erect memorials. Christ took 
 
 Familiar meat and drink, and with a look 
 
 To heaven, blessed them, and passing said: 
 
 "As oft as ye partake ye will have made 
 
 A memorial of me;" and in this way 
 
 Men show His sacrificial death till His coming day. 
 
 Beauty, like gold, is where you find it. Each form 
 Of beauty is compounded, has a charm 
 Peculiar to its elements. A neighborhood 
 I know where a quarter century has stood 
 A festival as a memorial. Neighbors meet 
 Yearly, view sports appropriate, and the sweet 
 Of sociability enjoy. It is common to men 
 To feel deeply, but less frequent when 
 With pains and toil, they reverently show 
 Their feeling, and visibly do make men know 
 They love and honor one; but here have sister, 
 
 brother 
 Reared an institution, a memorial to MOTHER. 
 
94 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 COMPENSATION 
 
 Her body was twisted by long borne pain ; 
 Her face, though refined, would be called plain ; 
 But her head was crowned with beautiful hair. 
 And in her bosom resided a spirit more fair. 
 
 DANCING 
 
 When Moses came down from the Mount of God, 
 Bearing the tables of the law. 
 With grief and anger he briefly stood 
 Transfixed by what he heard and saw. 
 
 The people danced around a calf. 
 "This be our God," they said, 
 (I do not wish to make you laugh) 
 And dancers of all ages led. 
 
 Such worship folly instead of truth 
 And so become depraved; 
 Glide in amorous hugs, forsooth, 
 And wot not they have misbehaved. 
 
 With dances grand they close the school. 
 Make up the preacher's pay. 
 Dames give dances who are so dull 
 They can entertain no other way. 
 
 On Good Friday Christ upon the cross 
 
 Six agonizing hours hung. 
 
 Decoration Day was planned by us 
 
 To honor the dead from whom we sprung. 
 
 Yet dancers dance upon these days, 
 
 (No sense of fitness them disturbs) 
 
 Though they were meant for prayer or praise — 
 
 That for folly they should furnish curbs. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 95 
 
 I SEEK SOME POETRY EVERY DAY 
 
 I seek some poetry every day. 
 On one my portion I had not found 
 In Supreme Court in legal fray, 
 Nor in the city's busy round. 
 
 In streets the crowds had passed me by 
 Nor made my interest rise, 
 Till a little old woman, brown and shy, 
 Looked at me with appealing eyes. 
 
 Her face was neither rouged nor round. 
 But plain and deeply lined, 
 Though a rarer beauty than those I found 
 In that face so womanly and kind. 
 
 A youthful soul looked through her eyes, 
 
 The lines of love and duty spoke. 
 
 A thirst for high romance she could not disguise. 
 
 And in my soul its poesy awoke. 
 
 ***** 
 Up a city street came a Papago squaw. 
 Timidity, embarrassment writ in her face, 
 Who smiled her way comically on I saw, 
 As your dog, which, fearing you will make him retrace 
 His course, when he disobediently follows you, 
 Grins ingratiatingly, half slides along, 
 Tucks, then wags his tail, trying to do 
 What will atone for all he is doing wrong. 
 
 ***** 
 
 I took the day coach on a late train. 
 
 Most all the passengers were sprawling asleep. 
 
 A bald man sat up as I came in. 
 
 Who, a long lock of hair on one side did keep 
 
96 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 To cover his bald spot the best he could. 
 A breeze through the window blew. At that 
 The man's long lock straight up stood 
 Like a bird wing on a woman's hat. 
 
 What marvelous power unsuspectingly lies 
 In a dreamy look in a maiden's eyes: 
 Power to change her course and mine, 
 If not for eternity, surely for time. 
 
 Mayhap she was seeing then 
 
 A family, new, of women and men. 
 
 A Mexican boy, chubby and brown 
 
 About four years of age, 
 
 As I was crossing a street of the town 
 
 Thus threw down his friendly gage: 
 
 (1) "Quivo," he said. I "Quivo" replied, 
 
 And he and his sisters chuckled with pride. 
 
 He knew me slightly. 
 
 I had impressed 
 
 Him that thus lightly 
 
 I could be addressed. 
 
 This simple faith of the little boy 
 
 Brought to me a quiet joy. 
 
 ***** 
 
 A little maid with laughing eyes 
 
 Was taking subscriptions to win a prize, 
 
 A big doll. I subscribed, and we came en rapport. 
 
 Said she, "Mr. Gibson, you're a good sport." 
 
 (1) Pronounced q-v6, and means "Hello" in Mexican. 
 
PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 97 
 
 SHORTY DABBS 
 
 Shorty Dabbs was on ox-bow knight, 
 
 (A bull whacker in fact), 
 
 Who one day got into a fight 
 
 As the result of a resounding whack 
 
 Given him across the face 
 
 By Gooseneck Charley over cards. 
 
 The proprietor of the place 
 
 And another player served as guards. 
 
 The barkeep took CJiarley by his gooseneck 
 Hand over hand, just as do boys 
 Choosing up on a bat. To check 
 Shorty's advance as he deploys 
 
 Knife in hand, the other steps in. 
 "Let me at him," Shorty growled, 
 "And I'll work a button hole in him;" 
 But being prevented, he stood and scowled. 
 
 Shorty observed things quite a lot, 
 
 Though perhaps his work was not very thorough, 
 
 For he said: "Two things I have not 
 
 Seen, a white-headed Mexican and a dead burro." 
 
98 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 
 
 THE BAND 
 
 When I was a little boy 
 
 At the sound of the big, bass drum 
 
 I would run a mile for the joy 
 
 Of standing and hearing the measured boom 
 
 Of the big drum, which, to me 
 Was nearly the whole of the band ; 
 And if, while crowding as close as could be 
 The drummer with wide swing of hand 
 
 Me in the stomach struck 
 
 With his drum stick, I 
 
 Was highly complimented, felt luck 
 
 Was mine. You bet I didn't cry. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Adams Neighborhood, The 93 
 
 Abnegation 51 
 
 Alice, To 59 
 
 An Indian Art Gallery 89 
 
 An Inscription 56 
 
 At Fifty 81 
 
 Band, The 98 
 
 Bird Cage, The 62 
 
 Boating 41 
 
 City Among the Pines, A 7 
 
 City by the Mines, A 60 
 
 Corn Ship, The 9 
 
 City and Soul 52 
 
 Clouds 79 
 
 Compensation 94 
 
 Confidence 40 
 
 Conservation 72 
 
 Control 14 
 
 Desert, The 65 
 
 Dream, A 65 
 
 Dancing 94 
 
 Direction 74 
 
 Elliott, James Edward 72 
 
 English Tommy's Repast 44 
 
 Erranty 11 
 
 Eternity 48 
 
 Evolution 92 
 
 Faith Out of Bitterness 56 
 
 Fancy 34 
 
 Grace 16 
 
 Helen 92 
 
 99 
 
INDEX 
 
 Hope, To 35 
 
 Hymn, A 63 
 
 Ideal and Real 67 
 
 I Seek Some Poetry Every Day 95 
 
 "In Union There Is Strength" 51 
 
 Innocence 11 
 
 Jazz 92 
 
 Keeping Saloon 45 
 
 Magdalen, A 12 
 
 Mastodon of Curtis' Flat, The 63 
 
 Mike, the Crow 69 
 
 Miner, The 75 
 
 Multum In Parvo 8 
 
 Observed 8 
 
 On the Fall of a Friend 46 
 
 Out of Doors 49 
 
 Pain 79 
 
 Parting 58 
 
 Politician, The 78 
 
 Prayer, A 45 
 
 Prayer 75 
 
 Queries 43 
 
 Quest, A 44 
 
 Reason and Revelation 36 
 
 Reflection 82 
 
 Reeves, Robert Hood 88 
 
 Rhapsody, A 83 
 
 Riddle, A 39 
 
 Salvation 50 
 
 Shorty Dabbs 97 
 
 Society 81 
 
 Solicitude 36 
 
 100 
 
INDEX 
 
 Suggested By a Dream 67 
 
 Sympathy 7 
 
 Teasing 13 
 
 Three Seasons 13 
 
 To a Farmer 48 
 
 Trails 73 
 
 Two Civilizations 70 
 
 Union Man, The 77 
 
 Vicarious Sacrifice 89 
 
 Woman, A 90 
 
 Wraith, A 58 
 
 Yearning 46 
 
 101