This is the reed the dead musician dropped, With tuneful magic in its sheath still hidden; The prompt allegro of its music stopped, Its melodies unbidden. But who shall finish the unfinished strain, Or wake the instrument to awe and wonder, And bid the slender barrel breathe again, An organ-pipe of thunder! His pen! what […]

CONTRIBUTED TO THE FAIR FOR THE LADIES’ PATRIOTIC FUND OF THE PACIFIC “Who comes?” The sentry’s warning cry Rings sharply on the evening air: Who comes? The challenge: no reply, Yet something motions there. A woman, by those graceful folds; A soldier, by that martial tread: “Advance three paces. Halt! until Thy name and rank […]

THOMAS STARR KING. OBIIT MARCH 4, 1864 Came the relief. “What, sentry, ho! How passed the night through thy long waking?” “Cold, cheerless, dark,–as may befit The hour before the dawn is breaking.” “No sight? no sound?” “No; nothing save The plover from the marshes calling, And in yon western sky, about An hour ago, […]

(SEPTEMBER, 1779) I “Have a care!” the bailiffs cried From their cockleshell that lay Off the frigate’s yellow side, Tossing on Scarborough Bay, While the forty sail it convoyed on a bowline stretched away. “Take your chicks beneath your wings, And your claws and feathers spread, Ere the hawk upon them springs,– Ere around Flamborough […]

(A GEOGRAPHICAL SURVEY, 1868) Very fair and full of promise Lay the island of St. Thomas: Ocean o’er its reefs and bars Hid its elemental scars; Groves of cocoanut and guava Grew above its fields of lava. So the gem of the Antilles– “Isles of Eden,” where no ill is– Like a great green turtle […]

Where the short-legged Esquimaux Waddle in the ice and snow, And the playful Polar bear Nips the hunter unaware; Where by day they track the ermine, And by night another vermin,– Segment of the frigid zone, Where the temperature alone Warms on St. Elias’ cone; Polar dock, where Nature slips From the ways her icy […]

DELIVERED ON THE FOURTEENTH ANNIVERSARY OF CALIFORNIA’S ADMISSION INTO THE UNION, SEPTEMBER 9, 1864 We meet in peace, though from our native East The sun that sparkles on our birthday feast Glanced as he rose on fields whose dews were red With darker tints than those Aurora spread. Though shorn his rays, his welcome disk […]

And you are the poet, and so you want Something–what is it?–a theme, a fancy? Something or other the Muse won’t grant To your old poetical necromancy; Why, one half you poets–you can’t deny– Don’t know the Muse when you chance to meet her, But sit in your attics and mope and sigh For a […]

(NEW JERSEY, 1780) Here’s the spot. Look around you. Above on the height Lay the Hessians encamped. By that church on the right Stood the gaunt Jersey farmers. And here ran a wall,– You may dig anywhere and you’ll turn up a ball. Nothing more. Grasses spring, waters run, flowers blow, Pretty much as they […]

(WAR OF THE REBELLION, 1884) No, I won’t,–thar, now, so! And it ain’t nothin’,–no! And thar’s nary to tell that you folks yer don’t know; And it’s “Belle, tell us, do!” and it’s “Belle, is it true?” And “Wot’s this yer yarn of the Major and you?” Till I’m sick of it all,–so I am, […]

AN INCIDENT OF THE WAR “I was with Grant”–the stranger said; Said the farmer, “Say no more, But rest thee here at my cottage porch, For thy feet are weary and sore.” “I was with Grant”–the stranger said; Said the farmer, “Nay, no more,– I prithee sit at my frugal board, And eat of my […]

(REFUGIO MINE, NORTHERN MEXICO) Drunk and senseless in his place, Prone and sprawling on his face, More like brute than any man Alive or dead, By his great pump out of gear, Lay the peon engineer, Waking only just to hear, Overhead, Angry tones that called his name, Oaths and cries of bitter blame,– Woke […]

(NORTHERN MEXICO, 1640) As you look from the plaza at Leon west You can see her house, but the view is best From the porch of the church where she lies at rest; Where much of her past still lives, I think, In the scowling brows and sidelong blink Of the worshiping throng that rise […]

(PRESIDIO DE SAN FRANCISCO, 1800) I Looking seaward, o’er the sand-hills stands the fortress, old and quaint, By the San Francisco friars lifted to their patron saint,– Sponsor to that wondrous city, now apostate to the creed, On whose youthful walls the Padre saw the angel’s golden reed; All its trophies long since scattered, all […]

(HEARD AT THE MISSION DOLORES, 1868) Bells of the Past, whose long-forgotten music Still fills the wide expanse, Tingeing the sober twilight of the Present With color of romance! I hear your call, and see the sun descending On rock and wave and sand, As down the coast the Mission voices, blending, Girdle the heathen […]

Of all the fountains that poets sing,– Crystal, thermal, or mineral spring, Ponce de Leon’s Fount of Youth, Wells with bottoms of doubtful truth,– In short, of all the springs of Time That ever were flowing in fact or rhyme, That ever were tasted, felt, or seen, There were none like the Spring of San […]

This is the tale that the Chronicle Tells of the wonderful miracle Wrought by the pious Padre Serro, The very reverend Junipero. The heathen stood on his ancient mound, Looking over the desert bound Into the distant, hazy South, Over the dusty and broad champaign, Where, with many a gaping mouth And fissure, cracked by […]

CANTO I I Act first, scene first. A study. Of a kind Half cell, half salon, opulent yet grave; Rare books, low-shelved, yet far above the mind Of common man to compass or to crave; Some slight relief of pamphlets that inclined The soul at first to trifling, till, dismayed By text and title, it […]

(1856) Dow’s Flat. That’s its name; And I reckon that you Are a stranger? The same? Well, I thought it was true,– For thar isn’t a man on the river as can’t spot the place at first view. It was called after Dow,– Which the same was an ass,– And as to the how Thet […]

Beautiful! Sir, you may say so. Thar isn’t her match in the county; Is thar, old gal,–Chiquita, my darling, my beauty? Feel of that neck, sir,–thar’s velvet! Whoa! steady,–ah, will you, you vixen! Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out; let the gentleman look at her paces. Morgan!–she ain’t nothing else, and I’ve got the […]