To Joseph Le Conte. 



223 



TO JOSEPH LE CONTE. 



By Charles Keeler. 



Peace reigns in these vast halls where thou hast roamed 

 And wrested secrets from the patient rocks, 



And watched the waterfalls that brightly foamed, 

 And marked the migrants in tumultuous flocks,— 



With kindly eye interpreting each sign 



As evidence of spirit power benign. 



Still rear the rocks their peerless bulwarks high. 

 Still sweep the cataracts elate and bright. 



Still joyous hosts of flowers bloom and die, 

 Still lift the pines their tassels to the light, 



As when, so late, thou pondered on their ways 



Through all the brightness of Sierra days. 



Here in these consecrated haunts sublime. 

 Beloved through thy life's perennial youth. 



Kind Nature whispered of the parting time 

 And led thy spirit on its quest of truth 



Beyond these symbols into high domains 



Where goals that baffle now, the soul attains. 



Dear friend who late unsealed my eyes to lore 



Of Nature's mystic laws, I love to think 

 That here in swift transition thou didst soar 



From earth's to heaven's splendor, and didst drink 

 Life's last draught from the mountains' melted snow. 

 And thus rejoicing on thy journey go. 



