And yet the imprint of his feet today
Is traced in flowers from here to Monterey.

MARY E. MANNIX.

MAY 29.

San Gabriel!
I stand and wonder at thy walls
So old, so quaint; a glory falls
Upon them as I view the past.
And read the story which thou hast
Preserved so well.

* * * * *

San Gabriel!
What souls were they who fashioned thee
To be a blessed charity!
What faith was theirs who bore the cross,
And counted wealth and ease but loss,
Of Christ to tell!

* * * * *

San Gabriel!
A glamour of the ancient time
Remains with thee! Thou hast the rhyme
Of some old poem, and the scent
Of some old rose's ravishment
Naught can dispel!

* * * * *

LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN,
in _A Parable of the Rose._

MAY 30.

Wherever a green blade looks up,
A leaf lisps mystery,
Whereso a blossom holds its cup
A mist rings land or sea,
Wherever voice doth utter sound
Or silence make her round--
There worship; it is holy ground.

JOHN VANCE CHENEY,
_The Grace of the Ground_, in _Poems._

MAY 31.

TO MOUNT WILSON.

Thou mystic one! Thou prophet hoar!
Thy teachings quicken--man's shall fade.
Ere man was dust thou wert before;
Thy bosom for his resting place was made.
And when thou tak'st in thy embrace
And hold'st me up against the sky
And Earth's fair 'broideries I trace--
All girdled in by circling bands that tie
Unto her side my destiny--
Then unto me thou dost make clear
Why with Life's essence here I'm thrilled.
Then all thy prophecies I hear,
And in my being feel them all fulfilled.
And as the narrow rim of eye
Contains the vast and all-encircling sky.
So in the confines of the soul
The undulating universe may roll.
And out in space, my soul set free,
I turn an astral forged key
Which opes the door 'twixt God and me,
I hear the secrets of Eternity!
In Immortality I trust,
Believing that the cosmic dust--
Alike in man and skies star-sown--
Is pollen from the Amaranth blown.

LANNIE HAYNES MARTIN.

Pause upon the gentle hillside, view San Carlos by the sea
'Gainst pale light a shape Morisco wrought in faded tapestry.
'Neath Mt. Carmel's brooding shadow, peaceful lies the storied pile,
And the white-barred river near