WEST SHORE.
No. 6.
Unto the wti ud with ths tmbr brightness,
Which shin like sapphin on ths foldM floor,
When dsy it linking in her dying iplndot
Upon the threehold of night's dusky door,
Thay mix ud mingle, wiling her with beauty.
And then, like pallid mourners, steel ewer,
While gently night, with her star-jeweled flngen.
Cloiet the eyelids of departed day.
Lot Angtla, California,
Sun A. Otis.
THE HOME OF ART,
There is an old poetic land
Of purple Tales ud riolet height,
Where sonlpton worked and marble breathed
And thought took wildcat, widest light.
A sea-girt land whose oryetal sirs
Intoxicated unawares ;
Where mountain gates fenoed ont the world,
And lonely tribes immortal grew 1
Where freedom lined the budding soul
And let the light of genius through.
0, land of art I 0, land of Greece I
One picture of a raoe confined
To Sod and nature, till it snatched
Joy and despair for all mankind.
Along the fair Psoiflo slops
A ohsin of sea-kissed, sun-kissed lands
Qreen orchards bend with endlees bloom,
Bright rlrers roll o'er golden suds,
Like sentinels the white psaks riie
That guard this new world paradise.
Deep in her Talleye genins waits
To none awhile her tropio bloom,
That yet shall burst ud bear abroad
Immortal cycles of perfume.
Bierre's heights, Willamette's rales,
Thy inland seas ud southland sun,
As fairer yet shall yet surpass
Old Delphi's fount ud Hslioon,
Oregon City, Ortqon.
Eu Kami Dm.
No. 7. THE CRY OF THE SPIRIT.
Ths words that are spoken but shadow
The thought that era nerer expressed,
And back of life's turmoil there listh
The infinite raptors of nit.
From orer the mountains ensbsdowsd
There flushetb the glory of dawn -,
Gethsemut's gateway but olaepeth
Ths way that a Bsrioar hath gone.
Through arenuee cypress-embowered
Lore walkoth with radiant crown i
From crow-tipped summit of anguish
Ths pitying Christ looketh down.
Ws turn from ths hinds that lr offend
To those thst wsnsrsr ou grasp,
And faint in our terrible longing
For forms that we nerer may olasp.
From ths srms held out to embraos us
We shrink with a moaning, to pray
For the pressor of srms that are folded
Forarer ud trsr away.
0, what does it mean, all this yearning
For something forerer beyond,
This psasionats cry of the spirit.
This waiting for days on dawned t
0, fathomless oosu of longing.
That breaks ou a glittering etrand.
Beyond where our thought-shafta may quirsr,
Ths shore of u unesen hud I
Ton bear on your bosom forerer
Our shallops of hops, pain-born,
Bent out from our long night of uguish
To sssk for the harbor of mom.
SaJoer,Cul(or(a, Caiiii 8ttxki Waltxi.
No. 8. THE HEART OF MY IX)VE.
There am mysteries deep that lie hid In the stars,
There are atcrets that green billows keep.
Bat not greater than those in a true woman's heart.
Filled with lore that is holy and deep,
Then an pages whose writing I nerer cu rsed,
In the heart of my lor, true ud sweet,
For its stents an deep sa those of the stars,
Or those hid in the wans at my feet
Bat the heart of my darling at last shall unfold,
la ths light of a paaeioa like mine t
Tis a beautiful solum I yearn to to read,
That ths key to ths elsip I shall find.
Ws know ths mistaks that our hsirts onos had mads
An horn out on ths stream of the rears,
And the droee of a lore we onoe thought to be true
Is now gona, with it doubts ud It fears.
Now. I know in ths dreamy, soft afterglow, sweet,
When the heart's wildest passions all net,
Is ths tims when my soul hath ths need of yon most,
When our Ion is ths truest and beet ;
We ban learned the eaddest of leseoae in life,
While the yean han been drifting away t
W realiss now all that lesson bath colt,
As ws stud here at the does of the day.
The dark night of the past hath been tiled with unrest,
But ths sunlight of morning now break,
While ths glory of hops fills my Ufs with its win,
And my spirit a new purpose takes,
Baa, my Ion, the dark clouds from ths mountains low roll,
And the mist shall aoon rise from ths sea.
While the sorrow that clouded my heart it dispelled
In the sunshine my soul finds in the.
Salsss, Orroos, Outi B. Kxolaxd,
No. 9. UNDER THE PINES.
Befon the grst in ths firelight,
On the night whan the year grow old,
Watching the amok eurl phutom-Uk
And the coals tarn to Using gold,
I sit ud dream, at I listen
To sweet elamor of new year chime,
And whisper low ths rows I mads
In ths moonlight, under ths pines.
I hen Uft muslo ud duoleg,
Ths soft perfumed, troploal air,
The eyes ud roloes that told me
" The rose of the mountains " is fair.
Onos mon I am Helona, daughter
Of " Old Ben," of " the blue bird olaim i "
1 hsar my boy lorer asking,
" Wild rose, will yon Ion ms ths asms
When you go with your father's sister
To ths city so far wy I
Will my bin bird of the mosntaln
Come back to ths horns nest soma day t "
Upon our sun-footed ponies,
Dp the tigsag canyon wild,
We had wandered to gather flowers,
In the twilight of springtlms mild,
The glut peaks in ths gloaming
Beemsd touching the shining stan i
Ths moonlight npon ths pins trees
Turned their branches to golden ban,
I anawend, with hud uplifted,
" Just as long as the north star shines,
I will kssp ths rows I mads you
In the moonlight, under the pine,",
Bo I'n left the dealing ball room.
Decked in iewele that brightly gleam
In my drees of pearl whit sella,
I bar oom to my room to dream,
I kneel in the glowing firelight,
As I listen to new year chimes,
And whisper low the rows I msd
In the moonlight, under the pine.
San FrnncUco, California,
Gaci HiinAU.
No. 10.
. FAILURE.
Failunl Ths word is written on my heart
It rules my life, has ruled It from the Mart.
The fame that other port gain with sat
Kludss my grsp t my rones osier pleas,
Am I mistaken f- Is bright poesy
A star whose radiance ne'er will shin for m f
And hn I hoped for tan long yean In rain I
Wen I no poet oould I feel eoch psin t
No poet i Just dreaming, foolish girl,
A useless sbsll art thou, no gleaming pearl
0, world of dreams, which I must Un without I
Dear gift of song I Howoultlnud doubt
That it It mine f What ia my life to m
Without my dreams t Bops, If I banish ths,
My heart will break. Well, broke hearts brinrdeeth
And net ud peaea, Instead of troubled breath.
The life of dreams that with my lira has growl,
Crush it, and reason rotten on her throne,
Aad yet, bow ean 1 hop t each effort bring
But added weight to these weak wings,
That strln to soar, and madly beat ud strain,
With feeble strength, against u Iron ohala.
Slocioof, Idaho, Ida 0. Wiittmi.