Complete Poetical Works by Bret Harte
page 87 of 326 (26%)
page 87 of 326 (26%)
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Than one week--here the story closes;
We won't continue the prognosis-- Enough that now no trace is seen Of Spring or Mission of San Joaquin. MORAL You see the point? Don't be too quick To break bad habits: better stick, Like the Mission folk, to your ARSENIC. THE ANGELUS (HEARD AT THE MISSION DOLORES, 1868) Bells of the Past, whose long-forgotten music Still fills the wide expanse, Tingeing the sober twilight of the Present With color of romance! I hear your call, and see the sun descending On rock and wave and sand, As down the coast the Mission voices, blending, Girdle the heathen land. Within the circle of your incantation No blight nor mildew falls; Nor fierce unrest, nor lust, nor low ambition Passes those airy walls. |
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