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THE STATE FLOWER 



Thy satin vesture richer is than looms 



Of Orient weave for raiment of her kings ; 



Not dyes of olden Tyre, not precious things 

 Regathered from the long-forgotten tombs 

 Of buried empires, not the Iris plumes 



That wave upon the tropic's myriad wings, 



Not all proud Sheba's queenly offerings, 

 Could match the golden marvel of thy blooms. 



Ina D. Coolbrith. 



THE GOLDEN POPPY 



Russian and German scientists in the year 1818 found the Golden 

 Poppy of California, and one of them named it after his friend Dr. 

 Johann Frederick Eschscholtz (Eschscholtzia Calif ornica). 



The Golden Poppy, as it is commonly called, has anything but an 

 agreeable perfume, but its wonderful coloring, and its incomparable, 

 satin-like sheen, have been the wonder, delight, and admiration of all 

 lovers of nature. Growing, as it does, throughout the length and 

 breadth of the State, and hardly elsewhere, it is peculiarly typical of 

 California, and in 1903, under an Act of the Legislature, was made the 

 State Flower. It blooms in the greatest profusion from February until 

 May, though specimens of the flower can be had in the lower valleys of 

 California almost any day in the year. In the flood tide of its season, 

 when this matchless flower raises itself above the feathery green foliage 

 of the plant, which is tipped with a deep bronze-red, it covers acres upon 

 acres of plains and mesas, and presents a sight which once seen is never 

 forgotten. 



The California Poppy is a brazen, garish flower. It shuns the wood- 

 land, and unsheltered, fairly revels in the warm sunlight. It possesses 

 none of the modesty of the violet, the sweetness of the rose, nor the 

 beauty of the lily, but, standing alone and unique, it compels our 

 admiration because of its wonderful coloring and sheen, which refuse to 

 be transferred by the limner's art to board or canvas. It wins its place 

 by its transcendent beauty, and lovers of nature, having once reveled 

 therein, the memory of it lives a lifetime. 



0, Golden Poppy, Eschscholtzia, Flame Flower, La Amapola, Copa de 

 Oro! Cup of Gold! You are all one and the same. Born under 

 cloudless sky; child of the summer sun and earth's unminted gold; 

 inimitable; sans story, sans art, sans poetry, sans perfume, sans all, 

 save thy golden glory we love you! Prentiss Maslin. 



