CITY’S BEAUTY.
Fair, oh, fair are the hills uncrowned,
Only wreathed and garlanded
With the soft clouds overhead,
With the waving streams of rain;
Fair in golden sunlight drowned,
Bathed and buried in the bright
Warm luxuriance of light,—
Fair the hills without a stain.
Fairer far the hills should stand
Crownèd with a city’s halls,
With the glimmer of white walls,
With the climbing grace of towers;
Fair with great fronts tall and grand,
Stately streets that meet the sky,
Lovely roof-lines, low and high,—
Fairer for the days and hours.
Woman’s beauty fades and flies,
In the passing of the years,
With the falling of the tears,
With the lines of toil and stress;
City’s beauty never dies,—
Never while her people know
How to love and honor so
Her immortal loveliness.
TWO SKIES.
FROM ENGLAND.
They have a sky in Albion,
At least they tell me so;
But she will wear a veil so thick,
And she does have the sulks so quick,
And weeps so long and slow,
That one can hardly know.
Yes, there’s a sky in Albion.
She’s shown herself of late.
And where it was not white or gray,
It was quite bluish—in a way;
But near and full of weight,
Like an overhanging plate!
Our sky in California!
Such light the angels knew,
When the strong, tender smile of God
Kindled the spaces where they trod,
And made all life come true!
Deep, soundless, burning blue!
WINDS AND LEAVES.
FROM ENGLAND.
Wet winds that flap the sodden leaves!
Wet leaves that drop and fall!
Unhappy, leafless trees the wind bereaves!
Poor trees and small!
All of a color, solemn in your green;
All of a color, sombre in your brown;
All of a color, dripping gray between
When leaves are down!
O for the bronze-green eucalyptus spires
Far-flashing up against the endless blue!
Shifting and glancing in the steady fires
Of sun and moonlight too.
Dark orange groves! Pomegranate hedges bright,
And varnished fringes of the pepper trees!
And O that wind of sunshine! Wind of light!
Wind of Pacific seas!