UC-NRLF -^*u/S GIFT or CALIFORNIA AT CHRISTMAS TIDE BY ELLA Ft SEXTON AUTHOR OF "STORIES OF CALIFORNIA" AND "WHAT THE CHILDREN SAY" FRRNCISCO. CHRISTMRS, 1902 lf 7 P5 353? 1*8 d friend P5 3S3? $o mg frienb (glrs. Jfogn g. CALIFORNIA AT CHRISTMAS-TIDE DECEMBER ! " says the year : but rose and bee And meadow-lark with trills of sweetest Say "No, tis June!" Stern black and white, the calendar s decree/- ^ : \V: Yet we who read, bewildered, turn to see "Wide intervales of tender green, and thrill To fire of southern sun caressing still December s noon. "What dawns late-flushed with mingled gold and rose, And slowly bright ning, till each perfect day Smiles hours away Under a cloudless turquoise sky ! Then shows The pearly bubble of the moon, that grows To luminous whiteness as the low sun wanes; "While, as the planets burn, December feigns June s mellow ray. Unchanged the spires of cypress, and the sweep Of crowding hosts of gum trees up the hill Where summer still With gold of vagrant poppies flecks the steep ; Yet winter violets bloom with fragrance deep. Perplexed, entranced, we are but sure this seems The * land of afternoon," and lotus-dreams Our senses thrill. A CHRISTMAS ROSE: rSE, at the Monterey Mission unfolding, Rose the good Padres once cherishing trained On these adobe walls gnarled stems upholding Chalices perfumed and sunset-pink stained, Rosa Castilian, sweet rose of the Mission, Secrets, ah, surely, your gold hearts retained As the long century drowsily waned ! Rose, did they whisper, those Padres, but aves While gay boleros soft tinkled without Corridors white in the moonlight, and pathways Darkened where twin shadows flitted about ? Rosa Castilian, fair rose of the Mission, Never a kiss set your pink lips to pout, Never a languorous lover to flout ? Rose, in some odorous twilight fast-flying (Waiting the Angelus prayers to repeat) Stooped not a friar, gray-robed, softly sighing Into your warm ear a confidence sweet ? Rosa Castilian, dear rose of the Mission, Once you leaned, surely, some ardent heart s beat, Quickened by ancient romances, to greet ? Rose on these crumbling walls tenderly cherished Years to you naught but the sunshine and rain, Dust are the Padres, their sepulchres perished ; Mouldering missal and vestments remain, Rosa Castilian, old rose of the Mission, Long-vanished glories their voiceless refrain, Passing of power Franciscan, of Spain. Rose with this austral sun s golden wine filling Lavish cups, brimming and perfumed to-day, No breath of winter, nor icy blast chilling Bloom of December as constant as May, Rosa Castilian, first rose of the Mission- Ah, but the magical tales you might say, Pink lips from golden hearts curving away ! CHRISTMAS * ^ * HERE AND THERE BELLS of Christmas, a carillon sending: Of silver chimes through the sunny day, Cloudless azure of June sky bending Over the sapphire bay Bitter the Christmas there, and snoring, Keen the rough winds blowing! Sunshine flooding the purple distance Of farther mountain, and hillsides near; Violets breathing with sweet insistence, 44 Winter is banished here." Frozen and bleak the garden spaces Lift their desolate faces ! Larks in our grassy meadows trilling, Love and hope in their raptures told ; Clusters of lavish poppies spilling Bright, brimming cups of gold Silent the woodlands gray, where only Bare fields shiver, lonely / Lightly fall in our golden weather Strokes of Time for the flying hours; Fair Earth smiles with the Year, together Marking our paths with flowers Long the winter s reign, and weary, Cold December dreary / TWO PICTURES THERE:-. BITTER the keen winds blowing under sullen skies and low, Where the dying sun, his brief task done, sinks blood-red over the snow ; Snow with its merciless beauty, snow with its deadly hold On the pulses warm of each shuddering form that dares the cruel cold. God pity the shelterless vagrant whose wandering steps and slow Falter and fail in the icy gale while darkens the waste below O, the scourging lash of the blizzard, the blinding, stinging sleet, The gaunt white wolves of Hunger and Cold that follow, grim and fleet! HERE: nEW grass in all the sunny spaces ; New robes for earth s brown breast The rains weave fast, in vacant places By southern sun caressed. New hopes through hearts despairing thrilling, New life a glad world knows With larks in greenest meadows trilling Where gold of poppies glows. Red are the garden roses budding ; Through casements wide, the room Warm winds with violet odors flooding, Knows Spring s dear, faint perfume. TO A DECEMBER VIOLET DEAR violet, a passing: guest With Lenten gown of purple dressed In colder clime. Sweet saint, uplifting tender eyes To April s pale and changing skies As brief your prime. But constant to our sunshine, here We find you, love you through the year, As friend, nay, more : Fast drive the wind-swept rains, and, too, The frost smites frailer bloom, while you Smile as before* No passionate rose are you, sweetheart, With red lips curved to all, apart In shyest grace You nestle yet the garden s pride Of bloom and beauty wanes beside Your dainty face. In sheltering leaves you hide, demure, From careless glance or touch secure, But lovers true Led by your perfume faintly sweet A breath of heaven, perchance we greet Your heavenly blue. Ah, little love, your calm content Shames restless souls with striving spent. Would we might find Nepenthe in the sunshine : cease To war with Fate and smile in peace, To life resigned ! i\ WITH CHRISTMAS VIOLETS TO HER sunny gardens where no blight Of winter mars their perfect bloom, These purple violets waft delight Of sweet perfume. Across wide, desolate wastes of snow, With breath of summer swiftly fare, Where stern December skies brood low O er gardens bare. Tell her of sapphire sky and sea, Of warm, caressing sunshine here, And green fields fair as Arcady Where larks sing clear. Yet, Sweet, twere Arcady though snows Lay deep along each frosty way, If, but your cheek could lean, a rose, To mine to-day ! n CHRISTMAS SONG TOR CALIFORNIA nO winter s blight our Christmas knows, No bitter blasts, nor sparkling snows: The old year wanes, the old year goes "While halcyon hours Drift on enchanted pinions fleet In sunny gardens, where with sweet And haunting perfume violets greet Late summer s flowers* Scarce dream we Christmas almost near So blue December skies appear, So green the beckoning fields, so clear Rise hills remote. The golden present thralls: no past Nor morrow s cares dark shadows cast, But on Time s dial, flying fast Bright hours we note* Ring out, glad Christmas bells, nor cease From snows to palms by tropic seas, Your tidings of good-will and peace Exultant sound. Ring out, blest tale of love Divine Where er the Christmas wreaths of pine, Our violets blue, or holly twine The world around. OUR CHRISTMAS BERRIES EJIGH on the leaning hillsides climbing fj Yon purple wall of the mountain flanks Out of the chaparral s thickest tangle That rims the rushing torrent s banks, With a brilliant glimmer of vivid scarlet Our Christmas berries smile, and shine From a maze of oak and glossy laurel, Manzanita and wind-swept pine* Up the wild, rough trails in the canyons, Crushing the ferns and wet, sweet bay, While the pungent odor of yerba-buena Follows our breathless, headlong way : Clambering high for more perfect clusters Set red-ripe in the tenderest green O, the joy of it, and far gazing From heights won bravely the seaward scene ! Perchance for robin as red, and blue-jay This feast of Nature s is spread alone, But lavish as all this fair land s treasures, Free as the sunshine the poorest own* So to the dwellers where, thronging closely, Glimpses of woodland beauty are rare, Joy and color these Christmas berries Bring to the dullness of ceaseless care* What care we for the alien holly Stiff and stately with ancient pride Of Merrie England ? We crown our revels With sun-kissed garlands, and wreath beside Branches of redwood with fragrance sylvan Grandest of mansions, or cot within : Lending the smile of Mother Nature To make us comrades, and Christmas kin. NEAR AND FAR AT CHRISTMAS TIME: CHE Christmas bells ring out though bleak December Far, far remote appears To hearts that in this summer land, remember Gay feasts of other years In colder climes, beyond these palms, and breathing Wild fragrance of the pine From trackless woodlands, where deep snows were wreath ing Their glittering garlands fine* Then rang the bells in mellow cadence, chiming Through keen and frosty air: Rang happiness, our answering heart-beats timing The Christmas chorus there. But on this western shore (an alien seeming To winter s rigorous hold) Perplexed we pause, to deem December dreaming As flowers of June unfold* Or from the high cloud-spaces swift descending The spirit of the rain Hovers above the waiting hillsides, bending Low to the thirsty plain : Her vapory mantle on the south wind flowing Athwart the mountain s crest, Her hands outstretched with gracious benison, sowing Promise of harvest blest* Soon follow emerald leagues of young grain springing : Bright gold on sunny slopes Our poppies scatter, while the larks dream, singing, Of love and wakened hopes. Stirs the warm earth with quickening growth and tender The blue of Christmas skies : Radiant with floods of soft yet brilliant splendor The low sun mounts, and dies. 18 BEFORE: CHRISTMAS /COUNTING the days till Christmas! %J A mighty army tells These rosary-beads of old Time s chain Ere ring the Christmas bells : And our round world far and nearer From palm to Arctic pine, There s a myriad eager hands that wait The Christmas wreaths to twine. Counting the days till Christmas ! Slow wanes the score, till all Are told, with constant, anxious glance Each calendar must recall* Days by the low sun smiling So brief, yet each we greet With longing sighs for the laggard march Of Time s unhurried feet. Counting the days till Christmas ! God s gifts, our children, dwell In a maze of happy dreams these nights; And daylight stories tell Of marvelous gifts the Christ-child To a fairy-tree will bear That grows, on Christmas Eve, to hold The wondrous gifts they share. Counting the days till Christmas! Sweet days of tender care That loved ones may on the blessed morn Find longed-for treasures fair. Thus dreaming, hoping and waiting, That holiest day draws near When " Peace on earth, good-will to men " Ring out the joy-bells clear.