UC-NRLF 
 
 am 
 
GIFT OF 
 
 :." 
 
BERTHA J. CLEMANS 
 
 Author of 
 "The Guiding Star of the East" 
 
 PRESS OF SHAW & RILEY 
 LO8 ANGELES 
 
Copyright, 1914 
 BERTHA J. CLEMANS 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Just This is California 5 
 
 Waves of the Pacific 6 
 
 Yosemite 7 
 
 Poppies 8 
 
 Mariner s Song 9 
 
 Out on the Trail 10 
 
 A Memory of the Desert 1 1 
 
 M\) California Garden 1 2 
 
 The Mocking Bird 1 3 
 
 Sunset ....14 
 
Dedicated to 
 MY MOTHER 
 
JUST THIS IS CALIFORNIA 
 
 O land where nature gives her best, 
 My happy homeland in the West, 
 Where roses blossom rich and rare 
 With colorings so pure and fair. 
 And perfume sweeter than elsewhere 
 Just this is California. 
 
 The land of romance, song and flowers, 
 Of hills and vales and shady bowers. 
 Where sJ^ies are clearer and more blue. 
 And birds sing sweeter* songs for you. 
 And friendships grow more fond and trm 
 Just this is California. 
 
 A land where golden dreams come true, 
 Fulfilment of the hopes you knew, 
 Where balmy breezes softly blow. 
 And golden poppies gleam and glow, 
 A foretaste here of Heaven we know 
 Just this is California. 
 
WAVES OF THE PACIFIC 
 
 O the waves of old Pacific, 
 
 See them roll upon our strand, 
 Listen to the song they re singing 
 
 As they dash upon the sand; 
 77s the song of Western waters 
 
 Of our sea so calm and blue, 
 They are whisp ring, whisp ring softly, 
 
 Their wave secrets now to you. 
 
 O the waves of old Pacific, 
 
 How they lull at eventide: 
 When the day at last has faded 
 
 And the stars no longer hide: 
 It is then the rushing breakers 
 
 In sweet rhythm ever roll, 
 O starlit old Pacific, 
 
 California is thy goal. 
 
 O the waves of old Pacific, 
 
 Tales of wonder you might tell, 
 Neath your crest where scenic gardens 
 
 Still abound in moss and shell: 
 In gay fairy caves of coral 
 
 Siren singers fair abide; 
 Tis their song you sweetly echo 
 
 With your ever rolling tide. 
 
 O the leaves of old Pacific, 
 
 From the Orient far away, 
 With your ceaseless song you ve traveled, 
 
 Rolling on from day to day: 
 You have gently pissed in passing 
 
 Island gems of which we boast. 
 Bade them farewell; bounding onward, 
 
 To our California coast. 
 
 O the waves of old Pacific, 
 
 Emerald sea, so clear and calm, 
 With melodious rhythm rippling 
 
 On our shores with cooling balm, 
 While embracing spray caresses, 
 
 As the swelling tide rolls higher, 
 On the borders of our homeland 
 
 Land of joy and heart s desire. 
 
YOSEMITE 
 
 A wonderland of beauty. 
 
 And a garden of delight, 
 Where the mountains in their grandeur 
 
 Lift their peaks of lofty height; 
 LiJ^e the walls of old Cathedrals, 
 
 In majesty they rise, 
 As meeting dome of turquoise blue 
 
 In Western sunny skies. 
 
 Far below the nestling valley. 
 
 In verdure cool is seen, 
 Nature s corridor where worshipers 
 
 Pay homage to the scene: 
 Here threads the silver river, 
 
 An ever flowing fount, 
 Fed by the crystal waterfall 
 
 From granite spiral mount. 
 
 Bright rays of golden sunbeams 
 
 Come shimmering through the pines. 
 And cast fantastic shadows 
 
 O er the festoons of woodbines; 
 While boulders glint and glisten, 
 
 Sacred altar fires alight, 
 Sending forth their silent blessings 
 
 In gleams of radiance bright. 
 
 A fairy land where wooded trails 
 
 O erhung with moss and fern, 
 Lead onward, winding here and there. 
 
 Enchantments to discern; 
 Where the dewy brakeferns cluster 
 
 About the moss-grown aisle, 
 While arches quaint are garlanded 
 
 With soft fronds that beguile. 
 
 And oh, the singing of the pines, 
 
 With cadence sweet and low. 
 And the murmuring of waters 
 
 As winding on they flow; 
 The melody and rhythm 
 
 Of that ever ceaseless stream 
 Like notes of magic music 
 
 We sometimes hear in dream; 
 And listening we fancy 
 
 That the Heavenly choir we hear. 
 As those strains of Nature-music 
 
 Are wafted ever near. 
 
 It is here the Master-builder 
 
 Has wrought with perfect care, 
 In majesty and splendor. 
 
 And with beauty, rich and rare; 
 Nature s paradise Yosemite 
 
 Earth s haven so blest. 
 The pride of California, 
 
 The Eden of the West! 
 
POPPIES 
 
 On Western plains and Western hills. 
 
 Where golden poppies grow, 
 A living sea of waving rills, 
 
 Alight with radiant glow. 
 
 The Golden West is thy native home, 
 
 Tis here you reign supreme, 
 In fields or plains, where er you roam 
 
 California s own flower queen. 
 
 Your sunfyissed petals and soft fern leaves. 
 
 Are dancing with delight, 
 As cooling breeze from Western seas 
 
 Ever wave your blossoms bright. 
 
 There s subtle charm in your cup of gold, 
 
 Alluring mystic balm, 
 The faey to land of dreams you hold, 
 
 To oblivion sweet and calm. 
 
 8 
 
MARINER S SONG TO THE GOLDEN GATE 
 
 O the Golden Gate is a haven sweet, 
 To mariners bold, a safe retreat; 
 
 And they sing a song, 
 
 As they roll along, 
 T ward the portals of the Golden Gate. 
 
 The billows may roll and the high seas sweep, 
 The wind may moan, and the storm clouds weep. 
 
 Though the boat rides high, 
 
 Just beyond so nigh 
 Lies the harbor of the Golden Gate. 
 
 See the rock and shoals as they cut the spray, 
 As the wild waves dash ever on their Way; 
 
 Hear the sea gulls cry, 
 
 Overhead so nigh, 
 Sailing on toward the Golden Gate. 
 
 O the Western Sea, famous Golden Gate, 
 With portals ajar to the Golden State. 
 
 Tis a welcome true, 
 
 That we give to you 
 As we sail through your Golden Gate. 
 
ON THE OLD, OLD TRAIL 
 
 Out on the trail, on the old mountain trail, 
 
 With its well beaten path that leads from the vale, 
 
 Narrow and rocky, sometimes rough and steep 
 
 As winding by precipice dark and deep. 
 
 And by walls that lift to a dizzy height, 
 
 Appalling in massive grandeur and might; 
 
 Away in this beautiful spot exiled, 
 
 Nature is robed in her garments wild. 
 
 Tis a wonderful scene, with ever a change 
 
 As we travel on up the mountain range. 
 
 Past sister peaks that about us rise 
 
 Meeting the dome of the clear blue skies. 
 
 These Western mountains, they have no peer; 
 
 A marvel of beauty, we view them here. 
 
 From the old, old trail of the mountain side 
 
 Where Nature s vista is broad and wide. 
 
 Out on the trail, on the old mountain trail. 
 Above where hangs the soft purple veil, 
 That covers the world with its folds of maze, 
 With its indistinct mantle of purple haze, 
 Away in this clarified region serene, 
 Following on in this magic scene, 
 To the summit, where grow the spruce and pine, 
 To the goal at last, to the end of the line 
 The line of the old, old mountain trail, 
 The trail high above the soft purple veil. 
 
 10 
 
A MEMORY OF THE DESERT 
 
 I stood in the vastness of that strange land, 
 With its wide expanse of glistening sand 
 Shining like snow in the soft silver light, 
 In the silence, the silence of the night. 
 
 And there about in fantastic array, 
 Yuccas all gnarled and twisted and gray; 
 Some there were pointing with long ghostly arm. 
 Like evil dream-spectres that haunt and alarm. 
 
 So enthralling and weird the scene did seem 
 Like a strange vision in fanciful dream 
 Spellbound I stood in that stillness intense, 
 In that far -reaching, wayside land immense; 
 While wafted on in the ozone so fair, 
 Pungent sage-brush permeated the air. 
 
 O the wild beauty, the thrill of delight, 
 With the silver lamps of Heaven alight! 
 In reverence I bared my head in that land, 
 Made waste and wild by Cod s infinite hand. 
 
 11 
 
MY CALIFORNIA GARDEN 
 
 / ve a beautiful garden, a rose garden rare, 
 
 Where grow the sweet blossoms, the blossoms so fair, 
 
 There are white ones, and red ones, and yellow ones too, 
 
 And glorious pink " e s a # flecked with the dew; 
 
 But the sweetest of all of the blossoms I know. 
 
 Are the little pink rose buds that daintily grow 
 
 In my beautiful garden, my garden so rare, 
 
 With its glorious blossoms, its blossoms so fair. 
 
 In my beautiful garden neaih shady palm trees, 
 
 Where the carpet of blue grass n>aves soft In the breeze. 
 
 And where violets nestle so close at my feet, 
 
 As they mingle their perfume with other flowers sweet; 
 
 It is here that the climbers and ramblers abound, 
 
 And the lovely bride roses with blushes are found; 
 
 But the sweet Cecile Bruners are fairest of all 
 
 Of the many sweet blossoms that grow by the wall. 
 
 There s an orange tree that grows in my garden so fair. 
 Hung with little gold lanterns of nectar so rare, 
 And pure waxen blossoms like stars shining bright, 
 As exhaling their fragrance of perfect delight; 
 By the pathway beyond chrysanthemums grow 
 Cold and purple, and white, side by side in a row; 
 But the dearest flower friends in my garden I greet 
 Are the dainty pink buds, Cecile Bruners so sweet. 
 
 12 
 
THE MOCKING BIRD 
 
 There s a mocking bird that sings to me. 
 
 Up in that old eucalyptus free, 
 He sings the very merriest lay 
 
 And knows not a care the whole long day, 
 
 In the early dawn his voice I hear. 
 As cooing so gently to his dear; 
 
 The tender warblings sweet and low, 
 Are meant for his little mate, I know. 
 
 With a lilting note so clear and light. 
 He sings in the balmy Summer s night; 
 
 While the happy echoes float to me. 
 He carols away so joyfully. 
 
 When I sing, he sings, this feathered witch. 
 And whistles so well I know not which 
 
 It may happen to be, bird or child, 
 This gay little imitator wild. 
 
 How he flits with dainty wings out-spread. 
 With mischief in every quirk of his head; 
 
 While he winks his saucy eyes so bright, 
 And chirrups away from sheer delight. 
 
 To your loving mate t loyal are you 
 O little song-bird of brownish hue; 
 
 While you guard with zealous eye and care. 
 The cradle nest of your birdlings there. 
 
 O the anthem sweet of melody. 
 
 Up there in that old California tree 
 
 By the feathered choir of songsters fair. 
 The mocking-birds lilting sweet and rare. 
 
 13 
 
SUNSET 
 
 Floating away where the rifting is high 
 
 On banks of sea foam in the turquoise sky, 
 Sapphire and gold, midst the emerald and blue. 
 
 With bright shimmering lights of deep rosy hue. 
 While glints of yellow with glimmering sheen, 
 
 Are flecked with tintings of violet and green; 
 There in lucent softness filtering through 
 
 The crystal light to the dome of blue. 
 Below the shades deepen in brilliance bold, 
 
 As darkens the glow of the burnished gold; 
 Its splendor dazzles, its beauty thrills, 
 
 As the waves of glory with rippling rills 
 Are wooed by the Suns enchantment bright, 
 
 In happy abandonment to delight. 
 Iridescent glory, splendor supreme, 
 
 This marvelous vision, this heavenly scene: 
 There silently floating, floating away 
 
 This vista of beauty at close of day 
 Bidding farewell to the purple and gold, 
 
 While nighCs silver shadows gently unfold. 
 
 14 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 AN INITIAL FINE" OF 25 CENTS 
 
 OVERDUE. 
 
 LD 21-100m-7, 33 
 
YC 14635 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY