TO YOSEMITE.

The silence of the centuries,
The calm where doubtings cease,
And over all the brooding of God's presence
And the spell of perfect peace!
O Granite Cliffs that steadfast face the dawn,
O Forest Kings that heard Creation's sigh!
Teach me thy simple creed, that, living, I
May live like thee, and as serenely die!

E.F. GREEN.


TO THE UNNAMED FALL IN THE YOSEMITE VALLEY.

Thou needest not that any man should name thee;
God counts thine ethereal jewels, one by one;
And, lest some selfish, inappropriate word should claim thee,
Silent, we watch thee sparkle in the sun.

BENJAMIN FAY MILLS.



MAY 24.


The white man calls it Bridal Veil. To the Indian it is Po-ho-no,