196 On the Campus 



A lovely lace-like lichen hangs on all the trees both dead 

 and living in filmy festoons tossing, while here and there, 

 far within the shade, patches of another curious lichen- 

 aceous growth paint trunks and branches brown and 

 gold. 



Around Point Lobos, as the rule for points down by the 

 sea, especially along the even coast of California, the 

 winds play their incessant music. Sometimes they come 

 roaring as if they had crossed the whole vast ocean in 

 their onset simply to smite this one opposing rock; anon 

 they simply sigh with sullen sough, or sing a requiem 

 sad through leafless trees, that once, when living, 

 answered with a shriller music. The sea, too, here has 

 its moods. Sometimes the sea is glad; the sunshine 

 glorifies its endless hues; its crystal waters lap the base 

 of granite walls or stream through purling channels, or 

 run in shallow waves along the snowy sands to chase the 

 naked feet of happy children. Again the sea is sad; 

 clouds hang low above its darkened waters, the sullen 

 waves rise and sink amid the islands or now with falling 

 tide make far retreat, disclosing all the slimy kelp and 

 naked rocks that form the shingle of the world. Then 

 the tide comes back and with it often comes the storm 

 and the sea rages and roars ; every wave gathers to the 

 onset, sweeping the islands as if to eternal oblivion, 

 climbs to the very summit of the granite cliff, and with 

 its watery tongue licks down the overhanging crest, the 

 turf, the flowers. Then the sun comes back with peace ; 

 the landscape reappears, the sluggish seals are lolling on 

 the rounded rocks, and myriad sea-fowl whirl about the 

 islands' undiminished heads. To landward loom the 



