* * *
Have you lain with your face in your hands, afraid,
Face down--flat down on your face--and prayed,
While the terrible sandstorm whirled and swirled
In its soundless fury, and hid the world
And quenched the sun in its yellow glare--
Just you and your soul, and nothing there?
If you have, then you know, for you've felt its spell,
The lure of the desert land.
And if you have not, then you could not tell--
For you could not understand.
MADGE MORRIS WAGNER,
in _Lippincott's._
MARCH 26.
One of the most beautiful lakes in the world is Lake Tahoe. It is six
thousand feet above sea-level, and the mountains around it rise four
thousand feet higher. * * * The first thing one would notice, perhaps,
is the wonderful clearness of the lake water. As one stands on the
wharf the steamer _Tahoe_ seems to be hanging in the clear green
depths with her keel and propellers in plain sight. The fish dart
under her and all about as in some large aquarium. * * * Every stick
or stone shows on the bottom as one sails along where the water is
sixty or seventy feet deep.
ELLA M. SEXTON,
in _Stories of California._
MARCH 27.
A PLAINSMAN'S SONG--MY LOVE.
Oh, give me a clutch in my hand of as much
Of the mane of a horse as a hold,
And let his desire to be gone be a fire
And let him be snorting and bold!
And then with a swing on his back let me fling
My leg that is naked as steel
And let us away to the end of the day
To quiet the tempest I feel.
And keen as the wind with the cities behind
And prairie before--like a sea,
With billows of grass that lash as we pass.
Make way for my stallion and me!
And up with his nose till his nostril aglows,
And out with his tail and his mane,
And up with my breast till the breath of the West
Is smiting me--knight of the plain!
Oh, give me a gleam of your eyes, love adream
With the kiss of the sun and the dew,
And mountain nor swale, nor the scorch nor the hail
Shall halt me from spurring to you!
For wild as a flood-melted snow for its blood--
By crag, gorge, or torrent, or shoal,
I'll ride on my steed and lay tho' it bleed,
My heart at your feet--and my soul!
PHILIP VERRILL MICHELS,
in _Harper's Weekly._
MARCH 28.
Lo, a Power divine, in all nature is found,
A Power omniscient, unfailing, profound;
A great Heart, that loves beauty and or
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