Until at last the spell of desolation Broke with a trembling star and far-off cry. The coming train! I glanced around the station, All was as empty as the upper sky! Naught but myself; nor form nor figure waking The long hushed level and stark shining waste; Naught but myself, that cry, and the dull shaking Of wheel and axle, stopped in breathless haste! "Now, then--look sharp! Eh, what? The Station-Master? THAR'S NONE! We stopped here of our own accord. The man got killed in that down-train disaster This time last evening. Right there! All aboard!" THE MISSION BELLS OF MONTEREY O bells that rang, O bells that sang Above the martyrs' wilderness, Till from that reddened coast-line sprang The Gospel seed to cheer and bless, What are your garnered sheaves to-day? O Mission bells! Eleison bells! O Mission bells of Monterey! O bells that crash, O bells that clash Above the chimney-crowded plain, On wall and tower your voices dash, But never with the old refrain; In mart and temple gone astray! Ye dangle bells! Ye jangle bells! Ye wrangle bells of Monterey! O bells that die, so far, so nigh, Come back once more across the sea; Not with the zealot's furious cry, Not with the creed's austerity; Come with His love alone to stay, O Mission bells! Eleison bells! O Mission bells of Monterey! * This poem was set to music by Monsieur Charles Gounod. "CROTALUS" (RATTLESNAKE BAR, SIERRAS) No life in earth, or air, or sky; The sunbeams, broken silently, On the bared rocks around me lie,-- Cold rocks with half-warmed lichens scarred, And scales of moss; and scarce a yard Away, one long strip, yellow-barred. Lost in a cleft! 'Tis but a stride To reach it, thrust its roots aside, And lift it on thy stick astride! Yet stay! That moment is thy grace! For round thee, thrilling air and space, A chattering terror fills the place! A sound as of dry bones that stir In the dead Valley! By yon fir The locust stops its noonday whir! The wild bird hears; smote with the sound, As if by bullet brought to ground, On broken wing, dips, wheeling round! The hare, transfixed, with trembling lip, Halts, breathless, on pulsating hip, And palsied tread, and heels that slip. Enough, old friend!--'tis thou. Forget My heedless foot, nor longer fret The peace with thy grim castanet! I know thee! Yes! Thou mayst forego That lifted crest; the measured blow Beyond which thy pride scorns to go, Or yet retract! For me no spell Lights those slit orbs, where, some think, dwell Machicolated fires of hell! I only know thee humble, bold, Haughty, with miseries untold, And the old Curse that left thee cold,