Will weep soft rains to find ye fallen low.”
He portrayed his California experiences in rhyme, when he sang of “The Summer Camp,” and we quote a few lines of it, so appropriate to his departure from San Francisco.
“No more of travel, where the flaming sword
Of the great sun divides the heavens; no more
Of climbing over jutty steeps that swim
In driving sea-mists, where the stunted tree
Slants inland, mimicking the stress of winds
When wind is none; of plain and steaming marsh,
Where the dry bulrush crackles in the heat;
Of camps by starlight in the columned vault