 | The Complete poetical works of Joaquin Miller . |  |
320
CALIFORNIANS.
“There were giants in the earth in those days, ... mighty men, ... men of renown.”
Not Roberts, he of Candahar,
Not Cronje with his scar-seamed men,
Not any man of noisy war,
Nor boastful man with blood-dipt pen:—
No, no, the hero of the strife
Is he who deals not death, but life:—
I count this man the coming man,
The rounding glory of God's plan.
Not Cronje with his scar-seamed men,
Not any man of noisy war,
Nor boastful man with blood-dipt pen:—
No, no, the hero of the strife
Is he who deals not death, but life:—
I count this man the coming man,
The rounding glory of God's plan.
The heroes of the firing line?
They housed with God upon the height,
Companioned with the peak, the pine;
They read His open Book by night;
They drank His star-distilled perfume,
Walled round by room and room and room;
By day they faced the trackless West
And chased the yellow sun to rest.
They housed with God upon the height,
Companioned with the peak, the pine;
They read His open Book by night;
They drank His star-distilled perfume,
Walled round by room and room and room;
By day they faced the trackless West
And chased the yellow sun to rest.
Such sad, mad marches to the sea!
Such silent sacrifice, such trust!
Three thousand miles of misery,
Three thousand miles of heroes' dust!
But then such stout thews of the few
Who knew the Promised Land, who knew
The cleansing fire, and then laid hold
To hammer out God's house of gold!
Such silent sacrifice, such trust!
Three thousand miles of misery,
Three thousand miles of heroes' dust!
But then such stout thews of the few
Who knew the Promised Land, who knew
The cleansing fire, and then laid hold
To hammer out God's house of gold!
Hear, hear, their thousand cannon roar
Against the knock-kneed mountain gnome,
Where never man set foot before,
Where monsters only had made home!
Hear, hear, the treasure-house is free,
A stream of gold flows to the sea,
And where a foolish king would rear
A castle, lo, a college here!
Against the knock-kneed mountain gnome,
Where never man set foot before,
Where monsters only had made home!
Hear, hear, the treasure-house is free,
A stream of gold flows to the sea,
And where a foolish king would rear
A castle, lo, a college here!
Their cities zone the sundown seas,
Their white tents top the mountain crest.
The coward? He trenched not with these.
The weakling? He is laid to rest.
Each man 's a man, such dauntless man
As God wrought not since time began.
His sons are as the sons of Saul,
With David's daring, soul of Paul.
Their white tents top the mountain crest.
The coward? He trenched not with these.
The weakling? He is laid to rest.
Each man 's a man, such dauntless man
As God wrought not since time began.
His sons are as the sons of Saul,
With David's daring, soul of Paul.
Each man a hero, lion each!
Behold what length of limb, what length
Of life, of love, what daring reach
To deep-hived honeycomb! what strength!
Clean out-door Adams, virile, clean
As nature in her vernal green;
He hears, hears as a prophet hears
The morning music of the spheres.
Behold what length of limb, what length
Of life, of love, what daring reach
To deep-hived honeycomb! what strength!
Clean out-door Adams, virile, clean
As nature in her vernal green;
He hears, hears as a prophet hears
The morning music of the spheres.
Behold how fair, how wondrous fair,
His daughter of the yellow sun!
Her sunlit length and strength of hair,
Seems as if sun and hair were one!
Behold where, silent, unaware,
As some strange being just begun,
She stands forth tall and fair, so fair,
And combs her mighty Titian hair!
His daughter of the yellow sun!
Her sunlit length and strength of hair,
Seems as if sun and hair were one!
Behold where, silent, unaware,
As some strange being just begun,
She stands forth tall and fair, so fair,
And combs her mighty Titian hair!
| The Complete poetical works of Joaquin Miller . | |