In the Sierra 



And the dawns and sunrises and sundowns 

 of these mountain days, the rose light 

 creeping higher among the stars, changing 

 to daffodil yellow, the level beams bursting 

 forth, streaming across the ridges, touch- 

 ing pine after pine, awakening and warm- 

 ing all the mighty host to do gladly their 

 shining day's work. The great sun-gold 

 noons, the alabaster cloud-mountains, the 

 landscape beaming with consciousness like 

 the face of a god. The sunsets, when the 

 trees stood hushed awaiting their good- 

 night blessings. Divine, enduring, unwast- 

 able wealth. 



July 8. - -Now away we go toward the 

 topmost mountains. Many still, small 

 voices, as well as the noon thunder, are call- 

 ing, " Come higher.'' Farewell, blessed 

 dell, woods, gardens, streams, birds, squirrels, 

 lizards, and a thousand others. Farewell. 

 Farewell. 



Up through the woods the hoofed locusts 

 streamed beneath a, cloud of brown dust. 



