P S 
 
 3517 
 
 N87 
 
 C25 
 
 1921 
 
 MAIN 
 
 ,o 
 
GIFT OF 
 
 , 
 
 X- ^ 
 
GaylordBros. 
 
 California and 
 IPestern Uerses 
 
 By LAURENCE EDWARD INNES 
 
L. E. INNES 
 
 
 Books 
 
 m 
 
 2014 South Figueroa Street 
 
 Los Angeles, California 
 
Several California, 
 Western and other 
 verses from the 
 
 writings of 
 L. E. INNES 
 
Copyrighted 1921 
 by L. E. Innes 
 
California and Western Verses Page three 
 
 IT S CALIFORNIA CHRISTMAS TIME 
 
 It s Christmas time! And the bluebird sings, 
 And the morning dew to the green grass clings, 
 And over the hills and far away 
 Is the strangest kind of a Christmas day. 
 Oh Santa Claus in the lightest clothes 
 Is skipping from pink clouds as he goes, 
 And saying, "My goodness, it s hot today, 
 How in the world did they get this way." 
 He waves a fan made of great palm leaves, 
 And his airship darts from eaves to eaves 
 Of the green and the purple bungalows 
 That stand in such dainty graceful rows. 
 Then he winks his eye, and the day is here, 
 And all about him is Christmas cheer, 
 But never a snow flake flutters by, 
 And never a chill wind breathes a sigh, 
 And the sun goes up, and the sun goes down 
 And it s Christmas Day in a palm tree town. 
 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 I f a pot of gold and a crimson rose 
 And wealth and color that no one knows 
 Conspired to produce a place for men 
 Where trouble would never come again, 
 They might succeed, but I often think 
 That of all the cups from which men drink, 
 There is no nectar like these far skies, 
 No sound of surf like the surf that lies 
 
Page four California and Western Verses 
 
 In the warm embrace of this Southern land; 
 
 And surely no smile or more friendly hand 
 
 Could meet a stranger than one meets here. 
 
 If you come for a day, if you stay a year 
 
 Oh! Here is a place where the flowers and sun 
 
 Belong, or seemingly so, to everyone 
 
 Oh, here is a place where a man may say 
 
 "I m glad I have lived and have passed this way." 
 
 SUNSET 
 
 A sunset with the scent of flowers to kiss the day, 
 
 To walk into the heart of night in such array 
 
 Of gilded thoughts, bedecked with such gay dreams, 
 
 Can this be I? Indeed it almost seems 
 
 As though a mantle clung to me 
 
 And I were some brave cavalier 
 
 Of gallant mien and fancy free, 
 
 Strangely waiting for a trysting here. 
 
 O lavender and violet day, good bye ! 
 
 Brown hills that mother us, I sigh 
 
 To see the rapture sweep from thee, 
 
 And all the glowing days bright gayety, 
 
 But night has come, the stars will shine 
 
 And in the darkness strange sweet wine 
 
 Will come to me. So daylight goes 
 
 Yet for a moment trails the sea with scarlet clothes. 
 
California and Western Verses Page five 
 
 TONGUES OF THE SEA 
 
 At night I listen and far away I can hear the call of the 
 
 sea, 
 The rhythmic chant of the voiceless waves, solemn and 
 
 sad, and free. 
 Sweeping on o er a million graves in the hollow home 
 
 where they live. 
 Of all things mighty the untamed waves have all that 
 
 a God can give, 
 They roam the world where the spirit lists, they beat 
 
 on a strange, far coast, 
 
 They wander back on an endless track, a vast un 
 numbered host. 
 They lap the face of an earth subdued to the mighty 
 
 power they hold; 
 No hand upraised may stay their course when they 
 
 gather a million fold. 
 Ships and men, and the power they wield, the patience, 
 
 the cunning, the skill, 
 What are these in the crashing seas where the grim 
 
 waves work their will? 
 At night I listen and far away I can hear the tongues 
 
 of the sea, 
 Speaking ever, yet speaking never, ceaselessly call to 
 
 me > fati 
 
 At night I listen and far away I can hear the tongues 
 
 of the sea, 
 They tell their tale in the roaring gale as they sweep 
 
 their message to me. 
 At night I listen and far away the waves with their 
 
 burden of tears 
 
Page six California and Western Verses 
 
 Keep forever the ledger page of the swiftly moving 
 
 years ! 
 Kings and commoners, bound and free, age after age 
 
 goes by 
 And only the waves as they chant their song listen and 
 
 never die. 
 I lie and listen and hear them call and they flood the 
 
 fitful gloom 
 
 With thoughts that tell how man must dwell in a nar 
 row restricted tomb 
 While they reach back to the nether years and chant 
 
 of the days to come 
 With all the gladness that makes their song and the 
 
 sorrows that make them dumb; 
 They tell of the freedom of fields afar, and they laugh 
 
 at the woes of men 
 But the moaning cry when they break and sigh cries 
 
 out to my heart again 
 And I feel they know that Time and Tide as they hold 
 
 the ash of the years 
 Have held compassion for hopes of men, their efforts, 
 
 their faults, their tears. 
 At night I listen and far away I can hear the sound of 
 
 the sea 
 Marking time on it s lonely rocks as it patiently waits 
 
 for me. 
 The waves well know that the hour will come when 
 
 my tide will turn and free 
 We ll go together through changing weather to the 
 
 heart of the throbbing sea; 
 Back to where in the lonely track of a distant gleaming 
 
 sea 
 
California and Western Verses Page seven 
 
 I look down deep in the heart of waves, and the waves 
 
 look back to me; 
 Where both shall wonder as stars go out and hot suns 
 
 glow and fade 
 Why earth and sea and eternity and man and his 
 
 dreams were made. 
 At night I listen and far away I can hear the call of 
 
 the sea, 
 The rhythmic chant of the wordless waves, solemn and 
 
 sad and free. 
 They call to me from the boundless deep, from the pit 
 
 of the burned out years, 
 Wise with the wisdom of ages past, and sad with their 
 
 unshed tears. 
 
 NEW LANDS AND NEW MEN 
 
 So has it always been: Egypt, Athens, Carthage, 
 
 Rome, 
 The index finger of the race forever pointing to a newer 
 
 home, 
 
 The strong blood surging to a fresh, clean place. 
 New skies, new seas, and then again new dreams, 
 New peoples springing from a good new soil ; 
 New life that radiates in vivid streams 
 Revitalizing ancient things. So men shall toil 
 And growing old shall rest; but when the thing is done, 
 Their sons shall cast it all aside 
 And seeing visions in the setting sun, 
 Shall journey forth with naked purse, but strong with 
 
 pride. 
 
Page eight California and Western Verses 
 
 A MOMENT AT THE GRAND CANYON 
 
 I knew that others followed for the train had been well 
 
 filled 
 
 With tourists really anxious to be overawed and thrilled, 
 But somehow when I wandered to that jagged awful rim 
 I forgot the ones about me; far away, and faint, and 
 
 dim, 
 Were the cities I had seen, were the people I had 
 
 known 
 
 And suddenly deserted I stood there quite alone. 
 Here ended earthly questing: from the broken jagged 
 
 sod 
 Marched the great vast naked mountains through the 
 
 soundless halls of God. 
 In the arched blue of the heavens where the sun rode 
 
 on his way, 
 There was still the solemn splendor of the planetary 
 
 day. 
 But here was God above me, and a new God down 
 
 below, 
 And the same God all about me, and I seemed to 
 
 strangely know 
 
 That never in the future, in the crowded city street 
 Would the vision be quite absent, that when I went 
 
 to meet 
 
 The hard exacting labor of the cold prosaic day 
 I would see God s marching mountains in unapparelled 
 
 array 
 See and know and feel forever where my weary feet 
 
 might plod, 
 
 That I d looked for one brief moment down the sound 
 less halls of God. 
 
California and Western Verses Page nine 
 
 A SUN BURNED CANYON TRAIL 
 
 It s a dusty road when the slimmer sun 
 
 Beats down red hot, and one by one 
 
 The blades of grass that banked its side 
 
 Have turned to brown and sighed and died; 
 
 But nevertheless its a wondrous trail 
 
 Where birds sing free, where winds call "Hail!" 
 
 And canyon spirits are whispering there 
 
 In the dusty, hazy scented air. 
 
 And no one knows where the canyon goes 
 
 And its brown and dusty, and yet no rose 
 
 Can tilt the nose of a passerby 
 
 Like a canyon trail neath a deep blue sky 
 
 Oh here is a scent yet the rose has fled, 
 
 Oh here breathes life though the flowers are dead! 
 
 THE PRETENDERS 
 
 The King is dead ! But the court still lives 
 And it shines its armor and curls its hair 
 And still pretends that the king is there. 
 The worms have eaten, the rust has come, 
 The trumpets silent, and stilled the drum, 
 But some strange hope forever gives 
 The puppets that vainly surround a throne ; 
 A power to strut when they stand alone 
 When the king is dead, and their hope is gone, 
 And the world forgetting has traveled on. 
 
Page ten California and Western Verses 
 
 POINSETTIA 
 
 A poinsettia, glowing and red, 
 
 Proudly lifted its gorgeous head; 
 
 It looked about it and saw the rose, 
 
 And up the hill where the poppy grows 
 
 It noted the blue of the bluest sky, 
 
 And the greenest of grasses filled its eye, 
 
 And the house that stood but a space away 
 
 Was orange and purple with dabs of gray ; 
 
 And the gay flower smiled with a well pleased smile 
 
 "To be beautiful here is a thing worth while, 
 
 But to rank them all when they re all so fine, 
 
 Is a gift indeed, and that gift is mine 
 
 My crimson lips on the face of day 
 
 Give love and laughter to light your way." 
 
 And the rich red flower grew still more red 
 
 As it blushed and nodded its gorgeous head. 
 
 WANDERER, REST THEE HERE! 
 
 If this is the end of the long, long road, 
 And the curtain that drapes thy dreams 
 Be a mesh of flowers o er the dark abode, 
 And the kindly sunlight gleams 
 With a gay abandon a space above, 
 Then Wanderer rest thee here, 
 Where long kind days will give a smile 
 And the soft rains give a tear. 
 
California and Western Verses Page eleven 
 
 ARIZONA NIGHT 
 
 As white as chalk the paths beneath a strange and 
 
 dream shot moon 
 Lead out across an endless world, and vanish all too 
 
 soon. 
 Grotesque as satyrs yucca palms stand guard as though 
 
 they feared 
 The shadows which their bent arms cast, the night 
 
 winds strange and weird 
 Bring odors that the day distilled, the stars superbly 
 
 bright 
 
 Seem studded but an inch apart in fields of hematite. 
 A desert land? Ah yes, perhaps, yet dreams go hand 
 
 in hand 
 With one who goes across the night in this strange 
 
 silent land. 
 
 YOUTH 
 
 I dance o er the grave of a million years, 
 
 No time nor tide I know, 
 And only the flowers that bloom today 
 
 Are the sweetest flowers that grow. 
 The hollow sound in the empty halls 
 
 Where ghosts go flitting by, 
 Oh! You may listen and looking back, 
 
 Remember and give a sigh, 
 But not for me are the faded flowers, 
 
 Nor the kingdoms passed away, 
 For this I say: Though the whole world die, 
 
 Still Youth will have it s day. 
 
Page twelve California and Western Verses 
 
 "JAMES! ADMIT NO CUSTARD PIES!" 
 
 A movie king and a movie queen and the ghost of a 
 
 custard pie 
 Met somewhere out in Hollywood, and they gave it a 
 
 glassy eye. 
 "You remember the time" said the custard pie, "when 
 
 I was nice and new 
 "And you were poor and out of work, and dollars were 
 
 hard and few?" 
 "And who are you?" said the movie king, "Tut! Tut! 
 
 Be on your way!" 
 And "Upon my word!" said the movie queen, "You 
 
 have your nerve, I ll say!" 
 The movie king in his limousine spoke to the movie 
 
 queen 
 And both with a most disdainful air sped from the 
 
 vulgar scene. 
 And the custard pie was all broke up, and he shed some 
 
 custard tears, 
 "Oh, ain t it sad" said the custard pie, "They forget 
 
 their leaner years" 
 "They forget the time when they looked on me as a 
 
 tried and a trusty friend" 
 
 "But times have changed, and I am old" and he tot 
 tered to his end. 
 And the movie king when his car reached home said 
 
 with snapping eyes 
 To his servant James "My man, take heed, I m at 
 
 home to no custard pies!" 
 
California and Western Verses Page thirteen 
 
 THE DESERT 
 
 O shadows that lure ! O heat that cries 
 From the deathly stillness of blinding skies. 
 O sand that eddies ! O sand that blows 
 From God knows where, to where God knows. 
 O desert that beckons, brave men who went, 
 Aye, bravely enough, but broke and spent 
 Who kissed the cactus and cursed their fate, 
 As you clutched their throats with red hot hate, 
 Is the thing that creeps o er your shimmering breast 
 A sigh from the bones that will not rest? 
 Is the lure that breathes in your dreadful breath 
 The calling of voices that long knew death? 
 
 THE "ANCIENT MARINER" ALIGHTS IN LOS 
 
 ANGELES 
 "I have braved many perils" the Mariner said, "and 
 
 many strange sights have I seen 
 "But crossing Broadway where it intersects Fifth has 
 
 got them all beaten, I ween." 
 Then he hitched up his trousers and tightened his belt 
 
 and joined that venturesome crew 
 That surges and urges and eddies about, but manages 
 
 still to get through. 
 He wildly inspected a motor car then that missed his 
 
 left leg by an inch 
 And he muttered a word that a deacon won t use un 
 
 less in a very tight pinch, 
 But a lady was prodding his ship on the left and a 
 
 street car approached on the right, 
 
Page fourteen " " Gal?forriia*-2(nd Western Verses 
 
 So he hastily strode the full breadth of the road, it 
 
 was safer to hurry than fight. 
 "I have braved many perils" the Mariner said, "And 
 
 I ve fought with the fierce Albatross, 
 "But this is a moment, the proudest of all, for believe 
 me I did get across." 
 
 THE BUILDER 
 
 Here is a haven a traveler said 
 
 And he picked a hard and a stony bed 
 
 A little room in a crowded street 
 
 Where the ends of the earth would often meet. 
 
 Yet he couldn t twist and he couldn t turn 
 
 Where the fitful light of his life would burn; 
 
 But he found the thing of his Heart s Desire 
 
 A book, a nook, and a quiet fire 
 
 And that was a haven indeed for him ; 
 
 But the other I tell of is somewhat grim: 
 
 Here is a haven a traveler said 
 
 And he followed the paths where the deserts led. 
 
 There was nothing there till the traveler came, 
 
 But he gave it toil and he gave it name 
 
 And the thing that was barren came to flower 
 
 In exchange for the work of each burning hour. 
 
 The blossoms came where the spade had struck 
 
 And out of the refuse lands and muck, 
 
 In fact from out of the world s back yard 
 
 He made a garden but the day was hard 
 
 And the traveler long since gone to rest, 
 
 But lands where he builded, we call them WEST 
 
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