From the tiny midget blossom
To the grand Sequoia high,
With its roots in God's own country
And its top in God's own sky?

FRED EMERSON BROOKS,
in _Old Abe and Other Poems._



JANUARY 24.


A MENDOCINO MEMORY.

I climbed the canyon to a river-head,
And looking backward saw a splendor spread.
Miles beyond miles, of every kingly hue
And trembling tint the looms of Arras knew--
A flowery pomp as of the dying day,
A splendor where a god might take his way.

* * * * *

It was the brink of night and everywhere
Tall redwoods spread their filmy tops in air;
Huge trunks, like shadows upon shadow cast,
Pillared the under twilight, vague and vast.

* * * * *