UC-NR TRAIL DVST DANIEL s. LIBRARY OF BAUDS TRAIL DUST A Little Round-up of Western Verse BY DANIEL S. RICHARDSON SAN FRANCISCO A. M. ROBERTSON 1908 LIBRARY COPYRIGHT A. M. ROBERTSON 1908 THS MURDOCK PRESS CONTENTS PAGE THE PROMISE OF THE SIERRA ..... 7 QUESTION . . ..;;.:.. 9 THE SEQUEL . . '..'.-"' V . ,' . II CALIFORNIA TO THE FLEET ,. . . . / . 14 GLACIER POINT . . . . . w/ . . . 1 8 "MARTHA" . . . .-, . . . . ' . . 21 THE MOTHER OF THE FOREST . . . . . 23 PANCHITA . j." . . . * . , . . 26 KENT AND THE MUIR WOODS .*../. 32 TWIN ROSES .. > 34 COMING HOME . . . . . .. . . . 36 DEATH'S MEANING . . . . . . . . 40 A MEMORY ... V * ... ... 42 JOAQUIN .....;....,. '. . 43 IN THE CAFE ., . . . . ... 47 THE CLIFF DWELLERS . . / . . -. . 48 AT ANCHOR . . -> <~ . . / , . . . 52 THE REDWOODS . ... ^ ^ ...... 54 LOVE'S ANNIVERSARY . " . , ij v^ - . . 56 UNDER THE HALF DOME . . . . . . 58 PICO . > '. V V 60 SHE KNOWS > 64 CONTENTS PAGE THE COLORADO 66 WHEREIN LIES WISDOM 70 THE LAST BUFFALO 72 PARTING 75 DONNER LAKE . 77 FROM THE DEPTHS 79 SUNSET AT THE GOLDEN GATE . 8 1 TO HER SCRAP-BOOK 82 SONG 83 SERENADE 84 THE INLAND SEA 85 YESTERDAY 87 ANDREW FURUSETH 89 YOSEMITE 9 1 DEDICATION To her, in love, whose eager feet Mine own have followed on the trail, Up winding steep, down flower-strewn vale, Through many a woodland, dark and sweet, Where crooning waters hide and hail; To her, in love, whose heart elate Made one of sun or cloud or rain In joy attuned to Nature's strain To her these songs I dedicate. THE PROMISE OF THE SIERRA When I am dead and on my breast The friendly clods are lightly pressed, Then shall I sink from sight of men And be as one who has not been. E'en those who wept will cease to weep, And I shall sleep the long, sweet sleep, Forgotten and forgetting all My lot the common lot my pall The voiceless dark that all must know. Nor do I grieve that this is so. Yet, from the snow clad peaks above, Whose every wrinkled front I love, A whisper comes : bend low thine ear, My wondering heart, and thou shalt hear : THE PROMISE OF THE SIERRA Because he loved us, we will be The guardians of his memory. Because he loved the river's song, The laughing brooks that leap along Shall sing more softly as they pass His resting place beneath the grass. Because he loved us, flowers shall bloom More sweetly on his nameless tomb, And on his heart the sod shall He More gently as the years go by. There is no death; love paid the debt; Tho* moons may wane and men forget, The mountain's heart beats on for aye; Who truly loved us can not die. And so I wait, nor fear the tide That comes so swiftly on to hide My little light. The mountains glow; I have their promise, and I know. 8 QUESTION 'Twas here, sweet love, beside the stream Where tangled blossoms quiver, And dainty-fingered fern leaves gleam Above the restless river; Where redwood shadows fall to meet The golden sun tide flowing, And all the air is still and sweet With wild-wood odors blowing; 'Twas here I heard thee whisper low Thy sweet confession trembling so. And yet, sweet love, if we had met Upon some arid plain Where birds sing not nor waters fret Nor cooling shadows reign ; QUESTION If on some desert, lone and rude, I to thy feet had come, And Nature smiled not while I wooed And all the skies were dumb Speak, little heart, my doubt dispel: Would'st thou have loved me there as well ? 10 THE SEQUEL My heart was light, though the skies were dumb. u At last, sweet Dora," I said, "I come/' She lived on the windy hill. The months had tarried since last we met; But she had written, "I love thee yet And watch for thy coming still." So toward the ocean my face I turned. The streets were silent; the gas-lights burned And flickered in dismal way; And e'er I knew it, I walked alone. The air was chill and a dreary moan Came up from the restless bay. "Now this," I said, as the fog came down, u ls San Francisco. No other town Has hills so slippery, mists so brown, Or girls like Dora May." ii THE SEQUEL The house I found, and a glimmer shone Through the blinds to the moistened stone Of the pavement far below. " 'Tis from her window," I said; " 'tis clear My love is conscious that I am near. She dreams of me there I know. "She dreams, sweet child, of the June we spent- Of the glorious summer weather When, through snowy azalea blooms, We wandered and dreamed together. Once more I crown her with airy ferns, And blackberry leaves and clover; Again we follow the river turns And the broken moon hangs over. And here I stand at her window pane. Awake, sweet dreamer, we meet again.' 5 12 THE SEQUEL I rang the bell and I said to him Of Tartar origin, standing grim Behind the portal : "Be pleased to say To fair Miss Dora that I would pay My compliments overdue." He took my card, and his almond eye With cunning lit as he made reply: "Miss Dola no shabee you. Las' week he mally with Captain Hill, And now he libing in Marysville." End of folly and birth of pain. Back I crept to the night again And the restless sobbing bay. "And this," I said, as the fog came down, "Is San Francisco. No other town Has girls so slippery, mists so brown, Or hills like Nob and Clay!" CALIFORNIA TO THE FLEET Behold, upon the yellow sands, I wait with laurels in my hands. The Golden Gate swings wide and there I stand with poppies in my hair. Come in, O ships ! These happy seas Caressed the golden argosies Of forty-nine. They felt the keel Of dark Ayala's pinnace steal Across the mellow gulf and pass Unchallenged, under Alcatraz. Come in, O ships ! The purple crown Of Tamalpais is looking down, And from the Contra Costa shore Diablo leans across once more To listen for the signal gun, Proclaiming that a port is won. 14 CALIFORNIA TO THE FLEET O ships ! Thou art not of the sea ; It was the land that mothered the( The broad, sweet land, the prairies wide, The mine, the forge, the mountain side ; And so the rivers, hastening Through valleys where the med'larks sing, Come freighted with Love's offering. Behold, they leap the granite wall Where far the dim Sierra call ; And lordly Shasta, from his throne, Looks down the canons, dark and lone, To smile his welcome to the tide : Come in, O ships ! The Gate stands wide. Think not we love, O squadrons gray, Grim war's magnificent array! 'Tis not that gleaming turrets reel Above thy decks of belted steel, 15 CALIFORNIA TO THE FLEET And frowning guns look down, that we Extend glad arms and hearts to thee. Not War we love, but Peace, and these Are but the White Dove's argosies The symbols of a mighty will No tyrant hand may use for ill; The pledges of a nation's power, For use alone in that dread hour When Justice fails, and Wrong shall dare Uplift its front in menace there. Come in, O ships ! The voyage is done. Magellan's stormy cape is won; And all the zones have seen thee trail Thy glorious banners down the gale. No stranger here to greet thee springs; It is thine own sweet land that sings Come in come home; the Gate swings wide, 16 CALIFORNIA TO THE FLEET Drift in upon the happy tide ; For lo, upon the yellow sands, I wait with garlands in my hands. GLACIER POINT Azure glory overhead, Underneath a gulf so dread That the very eagles shrink Startled from the dizzy brink. From his eyrie, looking down, Ice-hewn gorge and glacial crown Sleep in primal majesty. Mist-enshrouded, he can see Granite vales and depths where run Rivers leaping from the sun; Awful shapes in stone which rear Peaks the forked lightnings fear; 18 GLACIER POINT Dizzy ledges where the pine Leans to hear the glacier whine ; Rocks on splintered rocks down-hurled At the birth throes of a world. O for lips for tongue to speak Wings to swoop from peak to peak! O for soul to grasp His plan Who conceived El Capitan! Who conceived yon path of light, Downward pouring from the height Where the Grizzly makes his leap, Half concealed, from steep to steep! Power to voice the awful thought In those granite pillars wrought, Where the Half Dome, in his pride, Thrusts the jealous stars aside! GLACIER POINT Idle dream ! The far intent In this power and beauty blent, Prompts me only to confess Here my utter nothingness. 20 "MARTHA" Was it a dream, or did we sit In truth, one perfect day Just thou and I the world forgot Within an alcove gray? The place was haunted, I recall, With music, and its flow Came pulsing up from hidden aisles And spaces far below. You sat beside me, sad and still, Sad in the dear sweet way Of one who feels his pulses thrill To music's tender sway. 21 MARTHA And I was silent; for my heart, Forgetful of the throng, In dreamful bliss was drifting down The wizard stream of song. Perhaps it was the viol's note, Perhaps the minor strain Of violins which sobbed and called Their passion and their pain. I could not know ; but when your eyes Met mine, their depths revealed Some sweet confession which your lips Had artfully concealed. Did we, in truth, sit there, dear heart, In those sweet halls of pain ? Deny it not, for if I wake I fain would dream again. 22 THE MOTHER OF THE FOREST* A mighty specter, stripped and bare, She stands with pallid arms in air. Her great heart stilled her life undone She cries her protest to the sun. Man did his worst, whose vandal trace Profaned her thus ; but strength and grace And majesty outlived the deed. Above her ancient, towering breed She towers still, and lifts dead hands Above the black volcanic lands * This tree, a perfect specimen of the Sequoia Gigantea, four hundred feet high, in the Calaveras grove, was stripped of its bark for one hundred and fifty feet from the ground, to provide specimens and pin-cushions for curiosity seekers. THE MOTHER OF THE FOREST The sun-kissed lands which knew her birth Back in the twilight of the earth. Than this, man's long unworthiness No statelier ruin will confess. Than this, the record of his rage For gold, reveals no sadder page. Whose wanton lust this fane resigned To sacrilege, wronged all mankind. For men unborn, from age to age, In this great shrine have heritage ; And here, from age to age, will bring, With reverent feet, their offering. O Mammon! Turn thy shafts aside; With this, thy work, be satisfied. THE MOTHER OF THE FOREST Bid greed forego while yet remain Some fingermarks on mount and plain Of God's first work ; for lo, mine eyes Have seen thy trail in Paradise. PANCHITA The city is damp and the air is cold, I long for the sun and a breath of the sea A horse, swift-footed, and liberty; The sweet free air and the switching flow Of wild oats over my saddle bow ; The long green slopes and the dark ravine, Buckeye-scented and water fed Fern spray under and bough o'er head ; And the night bivouac 'mid the sea-gulls' din Down by the shore where the tide comes in. San Luis Obispo besides the sea ! Bare and brown 'neath the summer's sun, Glad and green when the storms are done Green forever in memory. 26 PANCHITA Here Panchita, my love, I knew. Not a flower that dared to be, Mountain blossom or bud that grew, Wind-bewildered beside the sea, Half so timidly sweet as she. Nimble footed as mountain quail, Light and airy as winds that blow Summer's whisperings to and fro, This Panchita, this love of mine, Dark and wistful and warm as wine, Set the wilderness all aglow. She was timid, I said, and shy: Once, however, when all the sky Burned with summer, and on the plain Cattle perished because the sun Licked the water-ways, all undone, Fever-stricken, nor succor near, 27 PANCHITA She, my timid one, laughed at fear; Laughed at danger and death and stood O'er my pallet through days of pain, Called the flickering life spark back Into vigor and hope again. Did I love her? God knows, and He Knows the riddle of destiny. Sternly scornful, her father said, "Child nor chattel of mine shall wed Northern vandal; the grave were better." So I left him and one dark night Led two mustangs beneath the wall Where Panchita, arrayed for flight, Heard and answered my signal call. 28 PANCHITA that ride 'neath a broken moon! The spur of danger, the quick caress, The hope, the promise, and all too soon The utter shadow and bitterness ! We reached the river; the stream was up; The current was swift and black; But a hundred times my mustangs' feet Had threaded the ford and back; So we urged them in, nor dreamed that death Lurked under the cataract. How it happened I can not tell ; 1 only know that her mustang fell, And when I struggled to reach her side, Her horse went down in the swirling tide. Wild with terror, I spurred my way Down the current and called her name 29 PANCHITA Knew no danger in my dismay Groped and stumbled and tried to pray But no answer the cruel tide Tossed my impotent arm aside Whelmed me over and bore me back Where the willows stood grim and black In the shallows. The long night through, Dazed with anguish, I searched the shore, Groped and stumbled and dared anew Swirl and eddy and sullen roar. Then 'mid tangle of sand and drift, Down where the treacherous currents shift, Morning found me, and lying there, Pale and beautiful by the sea, My Panchita was waiting me. The city is damp and the air is chill ; I long for the sun and a breath of the sea ; PANCHITA But a little mound where the sea-gulls scold, And the checkered cliffs rise dark and bold, Hides all my summer hides love and sun Down by the shore where the white tides run. KENT AND THE MUIR WOODS It is not oft, I think, that one Who truly loves his kind May do the thing which he has done And giving, leave behind So sweet a thought a legacy Perennial as the call Of limpid waters, babbling where His redwood shadows fall. *, But more than love he gave who stript His act of pride and name, Transferring to another's brow The laurel wreath of fame. A gracious act, methinks, to share With Nature's gentlest son The glory of this peerless gift From greed and havoc won. 32 KENT AND THE MUIR WOODS A man it was who acted here Within whose generous breast The passion burns the chivalry The bigness of the West. And while his redwoods drip with mist And winds blow from the sea, The names of Kent and Muir will live In blessed memory. 33 TWIN ROSES My rose tree, by the rude winds blown, Snapped at its base and bowed its head; I found its glorious blossoms strewn And, in my grieving, thought it dead. But feebly to the parent stock It clung, held by a slender thread. I bound the wound and braced it strong Against the wall to give it heart, And lo, it bloomed the summer long, And gave no sign of inward smart; And then, its sweet task all complete, It drooped and faded at my feet. 34 TWIN ROSES So she, my loved one, died ; her face Illumined still with life's sweet glow Her brave eyes veiled, lest love should trace The awful wound concealed below. Twin flower, she breathed her life away, (My rose tree and my love were one) With every bloom in sweet array And all her petals to the sun. 35 COMING HOME Tell me something, you who know, Have you ever felt the thrill Homeward speeding through the snow Truckee westward, down the hill? Do you know that hammer stroke Somewhere underneath the vest, When the ties begin to smoke As she plunges to the west? Far aback the deserts lie Splintered rock and canyon brink Dreary wastes of alkali, Sage and sand and Humboldt Sink. All have vanished! home draws near; We have crossed the great divide ; We are speeding with a cheer Down the home-stretch to the tide. 36 COMING HOME O, the wildness of the way 1 O, the call of bird and stream ! O, the lights and shades that play Where the winding rivers gleam! Throw her open ! Donner Lake Slumbers in the cup below ; All the pine-trees are awake Shouting to us as we go. Don't you see the fern-tips there Where the bank is lush and green ? Can't you see the poppies flare Through the manzanita screen ? Throw her open ! From the wall Nod the lilies as we pass, And a thousand wild things call From the shadows in the grass. 37 COMING HOME Whoop ! She shivers on the rail ; How the canons laugh and roar When she hits the curving trail Tipping downward to the shore ! Far below the valley sleeps, Warm and tender; I can see Where the Sacramento creeps Willow-bordered to the sea. I know that sunny land ; I can hear the med'larks call; 1 can see the oak trees stand Where the wheat grows rank and tall. Give her headway ! When a son Rushes to his mother's heart All his toil and wandering done And her loving arms apart, COMING HOME Nothing matters. Give her steam ! Sun and wind and skies conspire. Love to him is not a dream Who has touched the heart's desire. Love to him new meaning brings Who has felt his bosom thrill When across the line she swings, Truckee westward, down the hill. 39 DEATH'S MEANING If she were dead, and I should stand Some night alone within the fields Where we were wont to stray, And from the hills should come a breath Of tar-weed with the dew; if she Were dead, and I should see the moon Come o'er the mountain top and hear The call of crickets in the grass; Ah me ! if she were dead, methinks That I could throw myself along The sod and call to her, and she Would come, though dead, to comfort me, 40 DEATH'S MEANING But if some night, all desolate, I stood beneath the stars we loved, And from the south a wind should blow Against my cheek, and to my ear Should whisper Love is dead, Then should I know the chilling breath, The darkness and the sting of death. A MEMORY 'Twas such a night as this, sweet love, The moon was in the west, And timid stars hung then, as now, Along Diablo's crest ; Just there you stood love in your eyes A rosebud at your breast. How soft the air ! How sweet the sound Of crickets, faint and shrill, Came with the breath of dew-soaked leaves And tar-weed from the hill! And where the river ran below, To-night he sings there still. 42 A MEMORY O cruel Night ! O faithless stars ! How can ye shine so fair? How can the heedless river run To wanton music there, When she who taught the night to sing Comes not to heed or care ? Forget thy spell, O mystic hour; Laugh not, sweet winds that blow ; And you, ye careless waters, sing More softly where ye flow; For she comes not, who sang that night And loved me, long ago. 43 JOAQUIN Alone upon the "Heights" he stands And looks across the happy lands. With brave old eyes he looks and sees The shimmer on his sun-down seas ; The gleam on plain and peak and snow Where far his dim Sierras glow. Those peaks he sung when Fremont stood Beside him in the solitude; Those plains he loved when Marshall drew Their golden secret from the hills, That land he loved when old was new, And all her ways and winding rills Were musical because one day His truant feet had passed that way. 44 JOAQUIN Gray poet of a day and shore The heedless world will know no more 'Tis meet that thou shouldst take thy rest Upon the mountain's sky-touched crest, And from thy crag serenely wait What call may come of time or fate. No fear I read in those calm eyes ; Who bravely lives as bravely dies. Dies, did I say ? Not that not so Who sets the hearts of men aglow With one true song knows naught of death. He lives eternal as the breath Of fadeless spring of flower and sea That trembled to his minstrelsy. Good-night, old singer. I descry Thy tree-built cross against the sky ; And, standing in the vale below, Where roses bloom and peach trees blow, 45 JOAQUIN I watch the purple twilight creep O'er field and wood and shaggy steep. Good-night, old bard ; the shadows fall And stars across thy mountain wall Are looking over to the west. Good-night, old singer, take thy rest ! IN THE CAFE Just there she sat, her dainty hand Upon the railing pressed; And I can see and almost smell The rosebud at her breast; Can see the downcast troubled eyes Which sought the distant bay, Where Alcatraz and Tamalpais In dreamful splendor lay. O blessed vision thoughts that burn The twilight shadows fall, And where she sat, a vacant chair Is tilted to the wall. 47 THE CLIFF DWELLERS Downward from the great plateau, Where the Painted Desert creeps, Breaks a canon, deep and lone, Where a ruined city sleeps. Not such city as ye know Where the noonday splendor falls, But dark eyries, row on row, Swallow-nested in the walls. If it had a name, no man Ventures now to speak the word ; Where its history began None may say, for none have heard. Yet it was a dwelling place ; Here men lived and loved and died; This was home to some lost race ; Here was crib and fireside. CLIFF DWELLERS In this canon, once aflare With the joy of life and hope, Slinks the gaunt coyote where Hearth-stones crowned the rocky slope, Lizards flash from bank to bank, And the stealthy rattler crawls Where the chaparral grows rank Over stones and crumbling walls. Written in these stones I see Pass again in long review Life's pathetic tragedy Man's old story, ever new; Records of a savage day When the right to live was gauged By his strength who stood at bay In the sleepless conflict waged. 49 CLIFF DWELLERS Oh, the pathos written here In these long deserted cells! Oh, the tale of toil and fear Which their mute persistence tells! What the story? Did the sun Dry their springs and parch their lips ? Did relentless famine run Through their ranks in dire eclipse? Did the fierce Apache sweep From the heights a human flood Charging down the rocky steep In an ecstacy of blood? Did the pestilence at noon Stalk unstayed and taint the air? Did they, 'neath a dying moon, Curse their gods in their despair? CLIFF DWELLERS Who shall answer? From the past Comes no voice. The great round sun Swings in silence, and the stars Keep their counsels where they run. Nothing but these crumbling stones In the desert, stark and gray, Tell of them who struggled here, Made their fight and passed away. AT ANCHOR Night and silence! O such a night With a broken moon on high And lights atwinkle along the shore And stars in the far clear sky! Night and silence ! And lying there Just under the mountain wall, The great ship strains at her anchor chains And the shadows cover all. O patient stars ! We have waited long The coming of this sweet day. How fares our love, in the shadows there, Where the ships at anchor lay? 52 AT ANCHOR How fares our love? Does she know we watch And wait on the other shore? Does she feel and answer and understand Love's passion f orevermore ? Go touch her eyes with the lotus wand Go softly and kiss her hair; Steal into her dreaming soul and make Love's watcher an altar there. And morn will break over Tamalpais. Sleep, dearest, the day draws near; And love will wait by the Golden Gate Till the shadows disappear. 53 THE REDWOODS Like tufted arrows, straight and tall, Down-hurled by some titanic hand, Against the purple sky they stand And tremble on the mountain wall. From gulfs where limpid waters cry, From deep ravine and fern-lined cup, They lift their shafts of glory up To touch the glory of the sky. In fadeless verdure, host on host, They flank the meadows, cool and wide, They dip their fingers in the tide And run along the golden coast. 54 THE REDWOODS They run from cape to cape and free Their pungent breath on every gale; They lean where winding rivers trail Their scented currents to the sea. Hoarse, where they stand, the west wind springs Along their giant pipes and lo, Aeolian symphonies outflow And all the fragrant woodland sings. O temples, reared of mist and sun, To crown the glory of the hills, Perennial joy thy beauty thrills, And all thy aisles to music run. The night is here; and stars again Look through thy arches to the sea ; Where God so moves in majesty, What hand shall mar, what lip profane ? 55 LOVE'S ANNIVERSARY Once more 'tis here, O day of days ! Again sweet Mother Earth Has swung her patient round since love On this glad day had birth. Again the crooning waters call, Again the cliffs arise; Again the splendor and the spell Of that sweet Paradise ! Again a happy face upturned Is cut against the blue, And love is in the air and life And joy and hope and you. 56 LOVE'S ANNIVERSARY My heart is full; my cup runs o'er; Love's harvest hath no tare, And June's sweet cycle brings no fear Of loss or pain or care. For all is mine that men have known Of bliss beneath the sun; And all the stars are true, and all My ways to music run. And so, beneath the bended sky, Out here where winds caress, And birds and blooms and waters speak Of love's old tenderness I build an altar and I place Upon its lintel rude The simple tribute of a heart That aches with gratitude. 57 UNDER THE HALF DOME Low lying and all reverent, I fling me to the sod And read upon these awful cliffs The finger marks of God. The spirit of the world dwells here; And sweet it comes to me That she I love hath kinship with Its brooding mystery. I feel her in the water's rush, I hear her in the sigh Of winds which move among the pines, I see her in the sky. UNDER THE HALF DOME The stars her sisters are which wait Upon the mountain's brow To watch her coming as I wait And watch her coming now. O love, my own! Thou are a part Of this sweet wilderness, And loving it because I must, How can I love thee less? 59 PICO* Last of thy gallant race, farewell ! When darkness on his eyelids fell The chain was snapped the tale was told That linked the new world to the old ; The new world of our happy day To those brave times which fade away In memories of flocks and fells, Of lowing herds and mission bells. He linked us to the times which wrote Vallejo, Sutter, Stockton, Sloat, * Major Jose Ramon Pico, said to be the last of the name of a family prominently identified with the early history of Cali fornia, died in Alameda, February ist, 1905, aged seventy-eight years. 60 PICO Upon their banners times which knew The cowled Franciscan, and the gray Old hero priest of Monterey. In his proud eye one saw again The chivalry of ancient Spain; The grace of speech, the gallant air, The readiness to do and dare. And he was ready ; and his hand For love of this, his motherland, Was quick to strike and strong to lead; He served her in her hour of need And, loving, served her as he knew. What better proof, though unconfessed, Than these old scars upon his breast ? Once these broad fields which slope away Asleep in verdure, zone on zone, With countless herds, were all his own. 61 PICO Once from his white ancestral hall, A lavish welcome ran to all. To-day the land which gave him birth Allots him but a plot of earth A tomb where winter roses creep On Santa Clara's crumbling wall; Fit place, perhaps, for one to sleep Who knew and loved her best of all. So ends in rest life's fitful day. He saw an era pass away. He touched the morning and the noon Of that sweet time which, all too soon, To twilight hastened when the call Of Fremont from her mountain wall Provoked the golden land to leap New-vestured from her age-long sleep. 62 PICO The train moves on. No hand may stay The onward march of destiny; But from her valleys, rich in grain, From mountain slope and poppied plain A sigh is heard his deeds they tell, And, sighing, hail and call farewell. SHE KNOWS. Why do the winds so gently play, Forgetful of their old rude way, About my paths this blissful day? She knows. Why do the dull gray fogbanks seem Like clouds of incense o'er a stream, Touched by the morning's rosy beam ? She knows. Why do the noises from the street, The tramp and tread of busy feet, Come to my ears like music sweet? She knows. SHE KNOWS Why does the whole world seem so fair? What magic touch is in the air To sweeten toil and banish care? She knows. Ah yes ! She knows my love, my pride- By love are all things glorified ; 'T is night or day as she decide My love, my own. THE COLORADO Lawless river! In thy run From the mesas of the sun Downward to the Yuman sea, Thou hast blazoned wide a trail Of innate depravity. Not content to flow along With a ripple and a song As a normal river should, Spreading verdure through the land, Sowing blessings on each hand, Toiling for the common good Thou art, rather, best content When on wanton mischief bent. 66 THE COLORADO Roaring through deep canons where Not the sun himself may dare Trace thy windings, thou dost bore Through the adamantine floor Of the cosmos, biting out Clefts so deep and gulfs so dread That the very birds o'erhead Hesitate before they leap Outward from the painted steep. Giving nothing, taking all, Thou dost drain the mountain wall On each side, until thy course, From its delta to its source, Marks a desert, fierce and bare, Haunt of death and red despair; Sepulcher of whited bones Blasted things the Sun God owns; And thou laughest. Thou art glad, 67 THE COLORADO Seeing all about thee mad In the blister of the sun Crying water finding none. Demon river! In thy pride, Thrusting rocks and hills aside, Tearing up a continent, In thy ruthless discontent, Lo, thy hour has struck, for now Comes a mightier than thou! When, intent on wreck and ravage, Like a predatory savage, Thou didst leap thy banks and double Backward in thy search for trouble : When the Salton Sea was calling And thy gambollings appalling Menaced all the fertile plain, Then, across thy path of evil 68 THE COLORADO Stepped a pigmy with a shovel, And the roaring red Goliath Found his David once again. Great thou art, O lawless river! Vast thy power and brave thy plan ; But, however great thy greatness, Greater still is puny man. WHEREIN LIES WISDOM T was a little thing but a flower I asked, That lay on my dear one's breast ; But she gave it not, and I caught no thrill From the little hand I pressed. T was a little thing but a smile I sought, As we stood in the twilight sweet ; But she gave it not, and her lips were dumb As the roses at our feet. 'T was a little thing but a kiss I craved, As we watched the daylight die; But she gave it not, and her eyes were cold As the stars are in the sky. 70 WHEREIN LIES WISDOM O heart, I cried, when the night came down To cover my grief and me, Wherein lies wisdom when love wins scorn Devotion inconstancy? THE LAST BUFFALO (A captive in Golden Gate Park.) Lone survivor of thy race, Thou hast reached the stopping-place; This is where the sun goes down. Better so; for when a king Passes to his final rest, From the headlands he should sing, Fronting bravely to the west. Grim and silent, standing there In the sunlight, one may see Pathos in thy dignity: In thy sullen eyes may read Menace yet and threat to find Vengeance for thy slaughtered kind. Regal still, though all undone, I salute thee, Shaggy One. 72 THE LAST BUFFALO Yet, grim warrior, e'er thy day Fades away in endless night, I would venture, if I may, That the slaughter lust was right. True, the prairies stretch away, Cold and silent with thy dead; True, alas! the verdant slopes Feel no more their myriad tread; All are gone ; but have you thought, Grave avenger, in your plight, How much joy the slaughter brought- What a pean of delight Rose to heaven with every groan Kindled quick by stab and sting How the music of their moan Made the wilderness to sing? 73 THE LAST BUFFALO Man lives not by bread alone; He must see things bleed and die. Were it not a worthy fate Such a need to satisfy? Think it out, O surly king, Ere you pass into the night; Death means naught to man or beast If he keeps his logic right. Get you to the hay-rick there ; Make the most of life's brief span; Paw the ground and kick the air, Or kill your keeper, if you can. Only this before you go: Soon or late or slow or fast, Let the world's last buffalo Be a monarch to the last! 74 PARTING Day follows day, and quickly nears The hour when we must part ; Draw closer, love, once more conceal Thy face against my heart. Once more about my bended neck The beauteous arms enfold; Come closer, love, for love is short The night is growing old. Come closer, love; the night grows chill; Once more to mine upturn The glory of those soul-lit eyes On which love's kisses burn. Time flies, sweetheart, and love is short; O nestle close to-night; The morrow comes full soon the fear, The heartache and the blight. 75 x PARTING Come closer, love; each listening star In heaven heard thy vow; The clouds, the winds, the whispering trees Bear love's sweet witness now. And morn will break on some fair isle, God knoweth where and when; But God is good, and lo, His dove Will find its ark again ! DONNER LAKE* So fair thou art so still and deep Half hidden in thy granite cup, From depths of crystal smiling up As smiles a woman in her sleep ! The pine trees whisper where they lean Above thy tide; and, mirrored there The purple peaks their bosoms bare, Reflected in thy silver sheen. So fair thou art! And yet there dwells Within thy sylvan solitudes A memory which darkling broods And all thy witchery dispels. *The Donner party of immigrants, storm-bound here in the winter of 1846-7, lost thirty-five out of its eighty members by suffering and starvation. 77 DONNER LAKE For men died here ; and thou didst see Wan eyes upturned to heaven in prayer ; And thou didst smile while black despair Unrolled its awful tragedy. Come down, O Night ; thy mantle throw O'er haunted lake and spectral glen, For lo, their spirits walk again Who found their graves here long ago ! FROM THE DEPTHS Thy love, I sometimes think, is like The faint, uncertain ray Of some pale star that shines afar Beyond the gates of day. Serene, unmoved, my eager eyes Seek out its depths in vain For some dear grace, some answering trace, Of passion or of pain. And I have called across the waste For warmth and light, but thou, Forevermore on that far shore, Art coldly mute as now. Oh, I have thought, in my despair, T'were better to be driven A meteor flashed a planet dashed Across the bars of heaven 79 FROM THE DEPTHS To burst in one wild rout of light Against dawn's purpling gate, And then to sink beneath the brink, Than thus to watch and wait. Shine out, O star ! The pathless void Is dark and deep and cold; Not Love himself may pass the gulf Unless thy promise hold. Shine forth in fervor like the sun Love's fateful purpose fill; Or love me or obliterate, And bid my heart be still. 80 SUNSET AT THE GOLDEN GATE The sun sinks low and his crimson locks Trail after him down the west; They weave the sky into trembling bars Just over the ocean's crest; They build the clouds into golden harps Where the day has gone to rest. I think, sweet spirit, a shadow hand Is touching the burning strings, For music out from the silence falls Like the pulse of happy wings. Perhaps 't was the angel Israfel And the choir of heaven that sings. 81 TO HER SCRAP-BOOK Thy soul from out this little book Shines forth as shines the ray Of some pure star that trembling hangs Against the gates of day. Amid the sheaves thy garnered grains Of wisdom, sweet and rare, I drop the tribute of a song And leave it humbly there. May He who notes the sparrow's fall Make thee His ward and care. 82 SONG The day grows late and shadows creep Across yon rosy reach of sea; Night comes again, but ah! no more My loves comes back to me! Night comes again the same sweet stars The same sweet spell on sea and shore ; But she who tuned the night to song Comes back no more, comes back no more SERENADE Night is with thee, beauteous one, Slumber's kiss is on thy brow ; In thy dreaming canst thou know Who so fondly calls thee now? Sleep, sweet dreamer; would that I From thine eyes might kiss away All their sorrow, as the night Kisses back the cares of day. Sleep, sweet dreamer; I will watch. Morn will come; but not to me Comes the rapture of the dawn Till thy waking eyes I see. THE INLAND SEA Sea of beauty I Never yet Subtle words to music set Told thy magic. Thou art part Of a vision, half revealed, Felt, but evermore concealed. I have seen thee when the day On thy isles in splendor lay; I have seen thee when the night Bended o'er thee, and the moon, In thy silver depths a-swoon, Lost her way, and stillness deep Dwelt on stream and templed steep. 85 THE INLAND SEA Morning breaks; and lo, a star, Pale and pure as lilies are, Smiles upon thee. Fuji there Lifts his lordly brow in air, Hails thee from his battlement Sees thy face and is content. 86 YESTERDAY One summer time my tent was pitched Within a forest glade Where shy birds whistled to the stream And tangled blossoms swayed. About it sweet azaleas clung, Complaining bees flew over, And sweet upon the air there hung A breath of pine and clover. At night the great black mountains threw Their shadows on the river, And, where the listening pines looked through, The stars were all a-quiver. I do not know I was not sure The river was complaining; But all night long he called to me While stars and moon were waning. 87 YESTERDAY And all night long a minor strain An under note of sadness Ran through the music of the trees And stole away their gladness. It may be that the mountains knew: And something of their splendor The grieving stars, perchance, withdrew In recollection tender. It may be, also, that the stream, By reverie overtaken, Was calling back some old sweet dream Of love and faith forsaken ; Some dream, perchance, of her who stood Beside me in the never Of that lost yesterday, whose wraith Dwells in these groves forever. 88 ANDREW FURUSETH Not his, perhaps, the grace of mien Which culture yields and schools bestow; Not his the studied art to throw Delusive lights upon the screen. A plain, strong man he makes his fight Along the ramparts, armed alone With sense of wrong the people's moan- The pathos of their plea for right. Within his grave, sad eyes I read More potent than the passing hour Of greed and arrogance and power The measure of a brother's need. 89 ANDREW FURUSETH And right will win ; while yet are given Stout hearts, like his, to do and dare, No cause will faint or slave despair Who gropes through darkness up to heaven, 90 YOSEMITE In this deep cleft, so set apart So close to Nature's throbbing heart I stand in fear, For God is near. With wondering eyes, from dizzy trails, I look on floods and granite vales, And in them see Divinity. From towering cliffs and ice-hewn crown The arrow-feathered pines look down Where God alone Has set His throne. YOSEMITE Be still my soul; the Presence greet, Unclasp the sandals from thy feet, For all around 'Tis holy ground. 92 3/^ *....>. ^ *JU-~w^_s<. ^. ~v' THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW RENEWED BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO IMMEDIATE RECALL LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, DAVIS BookSlip-50m-5,'70(N6725s8)458 A-31// N9 727335 PS3535 Richarson, D.S. 13 Trail dust. T7 LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS