Thy satin vesture richer is than looms Of Orient weave for raiment of her kings, Not dyes of olden Tyre, not precious things Regathered from the long forgotten tombs Of buried empires, not the iris plumes That wave upon the tropics' myriad wings, Not all proud Sheba's queenly offerings, Could match the golden marvel of thy blooms, For thou art nurtured from the treasure-veins Of this fair land; thy golden rootlets sup Her sands of gold--of gold thy petals spun, Her golden glory, thou! of hills and plains, Lifting, exultant, every kingly cup Brimmed with the golden vintage of the sun. INA D. COOLBRITH, in _Songs from the Golden Gate._ AUGUST 18. The Golden Eagle is California's noblest bird of prey. He is more than a match for any animal of his own size. Not a beast of the field or a fowl of the air can dispossess him; he stands intrepid before every earthly power except the hand of man. He is shy and wary at all times, clean and handsome, swift in flight and strong in body. An experience gained in the fiercest of schools makes the Eagle as formidable as any creature of the wild. He is a valuable inhabitant of any cattle range or farming community. His food consists almost entirely of the ground squirrels that are so abundant through the California hills and cause such damage to the grain fields. WILLIAM L. FINLEY, in _Feathered Foragers._ AUGUST 19. THE POPPY'S CHIMES. With all this youth to cheer his eyes No man is ever old, With all this wealth to fill his purse No one need lack for gold. O rare Ben Jonson, you should see The draught that I may sup: How sweet the drink, her kiss within. The poppy's golden cup. My lowly queen, I bow to thee And worship with my soul: I hope to drink her love from out The poppy's golden bowl. Look up, my sweet, and catch my words, A secret I would tell: I think I hear her "Yes" ring from The poppy's golden bell. CHARLES McKNIGHT SAIN, in _Sunset, August_, 1908. AUGUST 20. Flowering vines overhung, climbed and clung about the balcony pillars and balustrades. Roses drooped in heavy-headed cascades from second-story railings; the wide purple flowers of the clematis climbed aloft. On one wall a heliotrope broke in lavender foam and the creamy froth of the Banksia rose dabbled railings and pillars and dripped over on to the ground. It was a big, cool, friendly looking house with a front door that in summer was always open, giving the approaching visitor a hospitable glimpse of an airy, unencumbered hall. GERALDINE BONNER, in _The Pioneer._ AUGUST 21. A DREAM OF POPPIES.