“All the air is full of music, for the winter rains are o’er,
And the noisy magpies chatter from the budding sycamore;
Blithely frisk unnumbered squirrels, over all the grassy slope;
Where the airy summits brighten, nimbly leaps the antelope.”
In a prophetic strain, which has been so often quoted in that land where
“The seaward winds are wailing through Santa Barbara’s pines,
And like a sheathless sabre, the far Pacific shines,”
he foretold, in “The Pine Forest of Monterey,” what has already happened in that magic land of sunshine, gold, and miraculous progress.
“Stately Pines,