California, and other verse . h,it was bare of trees. Now there is a great forest ofnearly 80,000 trees, all set out by the poet and hisvisiting friends. One of the cottages was the store-house of hisAlaskan outfit, his tent and other trappings used onhis trip alone across the silent wastes of the cottage was formerly occupied by his plucked some roses that grew at the door, and theseI still have. We next went to the cottage where thepoet penned so much of his work. Mrs. Miller saidthat Archbishop Trench, the great authority onwords, asked Miller where he got his words. She
California, and other verse . h,it was bare of trees. Now there is a great forest ofnearly 80,000 trees, all set out by the poet and hisvisiting friends. One of the cottages was the store-house of hisAlaskan outfit, his tent and other trappings used onhis trip alone across the silent wastes of the cottage was formerly occupied by his plucked some roses that grew at the door, and theseI still have. We next went to the cottage where thepoet penned so much of his work. Mrs. Miller saidthat Archbishop Trench, the great authority onwords, asked Miller where he got his words. Shefelt there was but one answer, viz., Genius. So passed the hour—an hour that I am to carry inmy mind to the end of my days, an hour that I thankGod for giving. On arriving home in Santa Monica, I wrote to , and this letter was followed up by an inter-esting correspondence. These letters, which the poetpenned, and while suffering with the illness thatshould later cause his death, I now have in my safedeposit box. 11. 12 THE DISCOVERY OF GOLD. j IF thou couldst from a hilltop see A bivouac of infantry Far spread upon the grassy plain, Where calm moonlight and silence reign, Recumbent forms in quietude Around the piles of burning wood, And not a sound of good or fell, Except the watchword, All is well, That, like some unexpected sound That starts the echoes far around, And travels on and on until Tis answered oer the distant hill; Those forms a-weary, fast in dreams, While from each stacked rifle gleams The flashing rays that dart around, Mocking the fires dance on the ground, Rest safe from danger. Shouldst thou see Advancing hosts from oer the lea. And hear the bugle in the camp, Behold the waking, hear the tramp— The dead spring into life again, And din of battle on the plain. Then thou wouldst know how sudden, strange, Came consternation oer that range Of quiet woodland, mount and glen 13 Sublime in primal glory then, When yellow gold, washed from the stream. Firs
Size: 1617px × 1545px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidcaliforniaot, bookyear1917
