Western field . run through;Dots of clustering treesSwaying to passing breeze;Veils of hovering mist;Heights that the sun has kissed;These are the hills we love,Lifting our thoughts above. —Mary Vaughan. AT NATURES SHRINE. T^HE moon shines through the pillared eucalyptus The breeze, rose-scented, sweeps the corridors of night The far Sierras gleam like pale divinities, The west, cloud-robed, like solemn visaged eremite,And I, a watcher of the nights solemnities, Worship at Natures shrine like rapturous . neophyte. —Thomas Maitland Marshall. THE MOUNTAINS. I WANT to be out in the mounta
Western field . run through;Dots of clustering treesSwaying to passing breeze;Veils of hovering mist;Heights that the sun has kissed;These are the hills we love,Lifting our thoughts above. —Mary Vaughan. AT NATURES SHRINE. T^HE moon shines through the pillared eucalyptus The breeze, rose-scented, sweeps the corridors of night The far Sierras gleam like pale divinities, The west, cloud-robed, like solemn visaged eremite,And I, a watcher of the nights solemnities, Worship at Natures shrine like rapturous . neophyte. —Thomas Maitland Marshall. THE MOUNTAINS. I WANT to be out in the mountains,Where freedom is not a name,Where the soul is glad of its birthrightNor walks with the halt nor the Peace is upon the summits, And Libertys in the the heart of the sad can only be glad In the shadow-haunted dales,With the birds thrilling out in gladness,And the flowers like thoughts of God,With the blue above, the green the blossomed sprinkled sod. —Dalington E. Photo by T. C. Van Ness, Jr. MIDSUMMKK DAYS DRKAM. THE PACIFIC COAST MAGAZINE 421
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectsports, bookyear1902
