Diversions of Naturalists 



From the last bluff, steep and stony, 

 To the beach where Abalone, 

 With his slimy fingers delving, crawls 

 beneath the shelving rocks. 



There the mad Pacific plunges 

 On the gentle-tempered sponges, 

 And the Octopus doth lunge his 



venom at each passing shark. 

 There the very long-nosed Garfish, 

 And the very short-nosed "Star" fish, 

 And full many another " quar" fish 



getting in his little work. 



In the kelp the junks, strange vessels, 

 In whose sails and rigging nestles, 

 Drying for the China market, 



Eel, and Rockfish red as blood, 

 While the whistle of the steamer 

 Wakens every startled dreamer, 

 As it plows through muddy water, stops 



at last in watery mud. 



Riding on his vicious "bronco," 

 Coming in from the Barranca, 

 With his red scrape glowing through 



the Eucalyptus trees, 

 Comes the swarthy Mexicano, 

 Frowning like a Castillano, 

 With his long mustachio waving like 



a pennon in the breeze. 



Soon the morning call to business 

 Breaks our fine poetic dizziness, 

 And the sun once more is creeping 



o'er the Sepulveda hills. 

 And, dear friends, we promise never, 

 Never, that is, hardly ever, 

 To repeat this gross addition to your 



necessary ills. 



C 207 



