The Days of a Man 



Here Cerro Cruz her iron cross uplifts, 

 Triumphant over her resistant cliffs; 

 Beside her armed Vijia, dim and dun, 

 Guarding the harbor with her single gun; 

 Low at their feet, half hid in sea-mists gray, 

 Shine far the four stars of the Cross of May; 

 Beyond the headland with its palm tree lone, 

 Flashes the beacon-light of tall Creston 

 The last and haughtiest of the craggy horde 

 Sierra Madre thrusts forth oceanward. 



Behind us lies the town in slumber deep, 

 And all unrestless as to thee and me 

 Man and his strivings now had ceased to be, 

 Or by some spell were bound in endless sleep, 

 Leaving us only on enchanted ground, 

 Alone together, where there comes no sound 

 Save the slow pulse-throb of the tropic sea 

 In the white moonlight beating steadily. 



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Perchance, dear heart, it may be thou and I, 

 In jome far azure of infinity, 

 Shall find together an enchanted shore 

 Where Life and Death and Time shall be no more, 

 Leaving Love only and Eternity. 

 For Love shall last, though all else pass away, 

 The harsh taskmaster that we call Today, 

 Till each concession Time from Life has wrung 

 Like outworn garments from the Soul be flung, 

 And it shall stand, with back no longer bent, 

 Slave to the lash of its environment ! 

 Then this great earth we know shall shrink at last 

 To some bare Isla Blanca of the past 

 A rock unnoted in the boundless sea 

 Whose solemn pulse-beat marks Eternity. 



In Mazatlan we made several new friends, among 

 them Mr. and Mrs. William W. Felton and Dr. 

 C 528 3 



