 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
20
II
So beautiful she was, as oneFrom out some priceless picture-book!
You could but love, you had no choice
But love and turn again to look.
How young she was and yet how old!—
Red orange ripened in the sun
Where never hand had reached as yet.
The calm strength of her lifted face,
The low notes of her tuneful voice,
Were mint-marks of that wondrous race
But scarcely born nor known as yet
Beyond yon yellow hills that fret
Warm sea-winds with their waving pine.
A princess of that royal line
Of kings who came and silent passed,
Yet, passing, set bold, royal hand
And mighty mint-marks on the land,
And set it there to last and last,
As if in bronzen copper cast.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |