In a Californian Cañon.

The hills are verdured with the pines and firs ;1
On mossy banks the lady-fern peeps out,2
And from the chasms and sunny slopes about,3
Nature, revivified and beauteous, stirs ;4
Where yonder bird his tiny pinions whirs,5
The red-stemmed manganita is abloom6
With delicate bells ; and from the thicket’s gloom7
The linnet practises his trills and slurs.8
Odours of pine and bay tree fill the air ;9
The sun shines warm on rocks and springing grass ;10
The white clouds break apart and softly pass11
Out of the deep blue sky ; and over there,12
Where but a while ago the snow-drifts lay,13
The hills wear all their mingled blue and gray.14