The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 25, 1895, Page 3

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, WEDNESDAY, DFCEMBER 25. 1895. WRITTEN FOR THE (ALL BY O InA CooLBRITH SBweet with the odors of balm and spice From the laureled summit of Tamalpais, < And cool from the wooded slopes and dells, P ‘Where Sausalito sinks and swells To the green, far inland, blew the wind Over the deck of the Golden Hind, ‘Where, at anchorage, still, she lay, The goodly ship in the goodly bay. ‘Wanderer she through lengths of days 5 —= ~) Over the wild, wide water-ways; Lulled in the laps of calms, and blown =/ By fierce sea gales from zone to zone. U From shores of the risinz to setting sun, ; THE W‘LLOW(‘ OFTHE ALAMED Ever and steadily on and on— = While the stanch commander paced her deck, ~~— Dauntless alike of foe and wreck, Dreaming ever the door to find To the fabled wealth of the farther Ind, . Or the Spaniard’s treasure that glittered far Under the beck of his fortune’s star. ] F. L. Foster. Now, in the rest that was hers at need, Lazily rocked like a water weed On the water’s bosom, the vessel lay With anchor dropped and the worn sails furled, By the strange new shores of a strange new worlid. And the stout Sir Francis looked away, From where in his hammock he drowsed at ease In the cool, soft breath of the inland breeze, To the long, low sand dunes sioping down, Billows of gold and biliows of brown, A bronzed sea to the white sea’s edge, And the strong, bold bluffs and the farther hedge Of hills that rose till the amethyst Of crest and hollow was lost in mist. Gray of trunk and gaunt of limb stand the aged sentinels, Willows of the Alameda, guarding still the Mission way; Through the morning twilight dim, heedless of the chiming bells, Stretch their thin and ragged ranks in seared and piteous array, This merry Curistmas day. Seamed and gnarled and tempest-scarred, frail souvenirs of that time When young California blithely reveled in her early May, Shorn of vigor, maimed and marred, gone the splendor of their prime,— X i Do ve watch or do ye pray, This merry Christmas day? Or, perchance, ye only dream. Through the mists of bygone years Who are these that fill the early morning with their carols gay? What know ye of eves that gleam? What of laughter? What of tears? What of solemn mass and matin? What of love and feast and play? That merry Christmas day ? Gone! the old-time padres gone! Gone each dusky neophyte; Don and donna, senosita—all lie mingled in decay. Ye dream here in ru y in death’s cold, starless night; But a century weighs upon ye—will ye, too, have passed away, Another Christmas day? But not with the vision before his eyes ‘Were the captain’s thoughts and his heart’s desires. Not with the [ndian chants and fires; Not with the kiss of the land’s soft breath; Not with the shore of the outer bay ‘Whereon, with the prayers that brave men pray, The sacred shield of the Chri 1 faith ‘Was set in the name of Elizabeth; But, with the precious store that lay In the strong ship’s hold, the goodly prize, Gold and jewels and broideries, Fruit of the battles, fought and won, With the treasure-laden galleon, Whose Spanish sailors could tell no tale Ot English ship or of wrecking gale. All things change; men come and pa Patient, strong, serene, eternal, loy Is to-day, as tnen he was, when ye flourished in life’s prime now ph oms only, passed ye, at his feet to pray, That merry Christmas day. one alone, through treacherous Time , , pitying alw . Hark! the music of the bells; Santa Clara de Assis As of old peals joyful greeting to the pueblo San Jose; Old, yet new, the taie it tells—Christ is born! On earth peace! Let the miser loose his hoardings, let his hand th’ oppressor stay, This merry Christmas day. Wake, ye willows, wake and hear! ’'Tis the melody that rang In thy leafy youth when Padre Magin heid his pi Still as mellow, sweat and clear as when c (Riding gayly 'neath thy arches) ditty That merry Christnias day. t and roundeley, He dreams of the day when the vessel, back Over the weary water-track, all rest in the barbor of home once more, With gold and fame for his England’s shore, Whose proud, great Queen shall honor him! And the hero's eyes grew strangely dim As he looks, within, on the Devon hills— His pulse, impatient, throbs and thrilis, As he sees in the twilight, still and fair, The gentle cher awaiting there, With fiuttering heart like a fluttering dove’s, The one sweet woman his stout heart loves, 8till the ancient willows drowse. With its wond They are weary ; They await life I Some mer See! Far up the eastern height, fl Streams of sunlig J badows melt away; So the Christ from death’s bl night brought the glory of life's daw n. Bend, ye willows, end adore him ! Christ is born! Let us pray ! “This merry Clristmas day. Strange and foreign is the time, n the Mission w ay; nd sublime, will they obey!) Strange, but the last night wind that blew Bore the blossom scents that his boyhood knew! And suddenly, solemnly, sweet clear, What sounds are those in his wondering ear? The bells of Tavistock ringing here? He sprung from the hammock! What vision rose On the windy shores? What forms were those In long procession and solemn tread, By the black-robed, priestly figure led ? There in the tower by the long white wall Swayed the bell of that silvery call, And the dwellings cluster, a dove-like brood, There, where the Indian wigwams stood. But the captain’s choler rose amain, For lo! the banner of royal Spain, Ana he glanced where his iron war-dogs lay, Couched and ready to bite and bay. Again! what power has wrought this spell In the fair, young land he had loved so well? What weird enchantment before his eyes Shaped these fantastic mimicries? For, lo! as he looked the pictare passed, And a wonderful city, strange and vast, With tower, and turret, and massive dome, Sprung, like a dream, from the water's foam. Through the avenues, stretching wide, Far and farther, on either side, Moved, incessant, the motley throng ‘With Babel murmur of speech and tongne; And hither, and thither, and far away, In and out of the beautiful bay, Were sails and spars from the nethermost seas — And the masts, where the vessels rode at ease, Stood like a forest of stately trees. And over all in the steady air Streamed a banner divinely fair: - For the rose and pearl of the dawn were there, And the blue of the sky’s serenest day, And tbe stars of night in its azure lay! Never, ah, never beneath the sun, 8o fair a flag had he looked upon! But love and pride for his own land swelled In bis loyal breast and his heart rebelled, And the gruff chief swore with a firm, round oath, By “George, and the Dragon”—nothing loth, By bis “brave men’s lives, and his brave men’s deaths,” *This land is England’s,— Elizabeth’s | 5 Flag nor color of other powers Shall flaunt o'er lands or seas of ours.” And he looked to water, and looked 1o land And grasped his sword with an eager hund,' And his face grew fierce, and the battle-scarred ] ‘Warrior’s breath came hoarse and hard. Then spake the ship’s bold minister, Chaplain Fletcher; «your pardon, sirl In anger and dire distress yon seemed, 1 think, my captain, you slept and dreamed.” And the Sea King, scanning the waves afar, Lone and barren of sail or spar, And the shores by the in-bound mist half hid, Made answer, slowly, “I think I did.” And deeming not that he left behind Vaster wealth than he sailed to find, ‘Whether the gems of the farther Ind, Or treasure sunken beneath the main, Or the hoarded gold of-his hated Spain, Through the Golden Gate at the dawn of day, The good Bir Francis sailed away In the Golden Hind from the golden bay. Mgrs. L. Dovcras ADAM. Upon the shining sands o} time iike one white pearl this duy still lies, An heirloom-gem of light sublime, We kept through childhood’s summer prime : ' And cherish yet 'neath winter skies. Tis hallowed by a thousand things That go to make our lives com_p}ete, And with its past our mem'ry clings. It holds the phantom voice that sings Our childhood songs in accents sweet. Who doth not bless the Christmastide! Theugh honest fact hath worn away The fancies old, and drawn u'sidu The mystic veil that fell to hide The history of Christmas day. Within the storehouse of the past 1ts many dust-white legends lie, And fairy tales in numbers vast, ‘We sorrow that they cannot last, These relics of an age gone by. Then bring the merry Christmas cheer, Make glad the little ones to-night. Their cares must gather year by year, The pleasing myths must disam{ear. And all this glamour take its flight. Rev. Fraxk L. Hicerns. In the word of the Lord is this wonderful story; A beautiful Babe, on the first Christmas night, Came down from His realm, in the kingdom of glory, To bring to the earth, darkand lost, heaven’s light. An angel appeared to the shepherds, revealing— "Mid light, brightly shining, the Holy Child’s birth; And heaven, {ts nearness no longer concealing, *‘Goed will toward men’’ sang; and “ Peace upon earth.” But deep 'neath its letter, we learn from this story, How Christ, who once, outwardly, came down to earth, In spirit, again from His kingdom of glory, Descends to each soul, seeking room there for birth, Within us each mind has its Bethlehem manger, The Christ child is Truth asking there to be born, And when we let in this divine little stranger, And keep his commandments, our night becomes morn.