TS35-3 
 
 iC3 
 
PS 3503 
 .R721 
 C3 
 1915 
 Copy 1 
 
 flan'<6,U 
 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 A Poem ' 5j; FRED 
 EMERSON BROOKS 
 
 ii 
 
 PAUL ELDER £5f COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS • SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 Hard by the blue Pacific 
 
 An Empire stands alone, 
 Walled in by serrate mountains, 
 
 While Plenty sits the throne; 
 Where the climate is an Eden, 
 
 Where the Winter is a Spring, 
 Where the Summer is eternal 
 
 And the birds forever sing. 
 
Copyright^ igi3 
 
 Paul Elder ^ Company 
 
 San Francisco 
 
 
 0. >a/' 
 JUL 2 1915 
 
 (0)CI.A407575 
 
One may take a two days' journey 
 
 In a Pullman palace train, 
 Through the miles of orange blossoms 
 
 And the leagues of waving grain; 
 There's enough to feed a Nation 
 
 In yon single field of wheat, 
 If they'd only come and glean it 
 
 Who are starving in the street. 
 
 Precious metals in the mountains; 
 E'en the sands are full of gold. 
 
 Which came down in yellow 
 showers, 
 As the manna fell of old. 
 
 See the vineyards without number- 
 Countless tons of purple gems; 
 
 'Tis a royal country, stranger. 
 Where the fields wear diadems. 
 
 [3] 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/californiapoemOObroo 
 
If the rain should ever fail us 
 
 We could irrigate with wine- 
 Turn the beverage of Cana 
 
 Back again into the vine; 
 While the miracles of Burbank 
 
 Bid old wizard Nature bear 
 Fruits and flowers never dreamed of 
 
 In her bounteous bill of fare. 
 
 Hoary Shasta, Sovereign Mountain, 
 With thy jeweled crown of snow 
 
 And thy feet in beds of flowers! 
 There with silken robes aglow. 
 
 Smiles the Maiden California, 
 
 Formed of such enchanting mold 
 
 Sunshine Elfins kiss her sandals- 
 Silver sandals laced with gold. 
 
 [5] 
 
Surely this must be the Eden 
 
 Where the woman tempted man. 
 With the women still so tempting 
 
 They'd upset most any plan; 
 Little wonder they both yielded 
 
 Where the fruitage is so fair; 
 It would tempt far holier mortals. 
 
 It would lure more cautious pair. 
 
 Those who locate ancient Eden 
 
 By the Dead Sea are not wrong. 
 Since our California glory 
 
 To that Garden must belong— 
 There's a dead sea over yonder 
 
 Where Mono's brackish tide 
 Makes a liquid tomb for nature. 
 
 And where nothing can abide. 
 
 [7] 
 
There's an ancient Druid temple 
 
 In that forest petrified; 
 There the wife of Lot glanced 
 backward, 
 
 Turned to crystal as she died; 
 There stood Sodom, there Gomorrah, 
 
 Where the Geyser's boiling pot 
 Seethes amid the ancient ruins. 
 
 And the embers still are hot. 
 
 Who can catalogue the wonders? 
 
 Who can say what there is not. 
 In this land of milk and honey. 
 
 Nature's only polyglot—? 
 Stranger, mention something lacking 
 
 Here among the things that be. 
 And we'll take you out to view it 
 
 In this garden by the sea. 
 
 [9] 
 
Is there any kind of climate. 
 
 Any scene for painter's eye 
 The Almighty hath not crowded 
 
 'Neath our California sky? 
 Is there any fruit or flower, 
 
 Any gem or jewel old, 
 Any wonder of creation 
 
 That this garden doth not hold- 
 
 From the tiny midget blossom 
 
 To the grand Sequoia high. 
 With its roots in God's own country 
 
 And its top in God's own sky? 
 And when you're done life's sojourn 
 
 You may take the Golden Gate, 
 Or mount up this Jacob's ladder 
 
 From the glorious Golden State. 
 
 [■■] 
 
From the vision of the ashes 
 
 Western men of heart and brains 
 Have rebuilt a marvel city 
 
 Where the queen of beauty reigns: 
 Her breath is like the perfume 
 
 And her cheek is like the rose, 
 And her hair is like the sunshine 
 
 Where the golden poppy grows. 
 
 Here the moon flings dovi^n her silver, 
 
 Here the sun flings down his gold; 
 With the gems still in the water 
 
 Where the stars fell down of old. 
 When the sun sinks in the ocean 
 
 Like a monster burnished plate, 
 You behold the God of Glory 
 
 Closing up the Golden Gate. 
 
 [13] 
 
Here, within the world's Elysium, 
 
 Earth's great harbor we behold. 
 Where the silver waters tide them 
 
 Through the gates of burnished 
 gold: 
 Here, in Alabaster temples. 
 
 All the arts of man appear. 
 For both continents and oceans 
 
 Hold their Exposition here. 
 
 California makes fiesta 
 
 And invites the world to sup 
 While the kiss of her abundance 
 
 Drops a pearl in every cup; 
 Man has cut the earth asunder. 
 
 Made a highway for the sea 
 That the ships of man come 
 
 sooner 
 To this land of Arcadie. 
 
 [■5] 
 
LJBRfiRY OF CONGRESS 
 
 018 602 290 7