DECEMBER 28.
MOUNT SHASTA.
As lone as God, and white as Winter moon,
Mount Shasta's peak looks down on forest gloom.
The storm-tossed pines and warlike-looking firs
Have rallied here upon its silver spurs.
Eternal tower, majestic, great and strong,
So silent all, except for Heaven's song—
For Heaven's voice calls out through silver bars
To Shasta's height; calls out below the stars,