Madroño.

CAPTAIN of the Western wood,
Thou that apest Robin Hood!
Green above thy scarlet hose,
How thy velvet mantle shows;
Never tree like thee arrayed,
Oh thou gallant of the glade!

When the fervid August sun
Scorches all it looks upon,
And the balsam of the pine
Drips from stem to needle fine,
Round thy compact shade arranged,
Not a leaf of thee is changed!

When the yellow autumn sun
Saddens all it looks upon,

Spreads its sackcloth on the hills,
Strews its ashes in the rills,
Thou thy scarlet hose dost doff,
And in limbs of purest buff
Challengest the sombre glade
For a sylvan masquerade.

Where, O where, shall he begin
Who would paint thee, Harlequin ?
With thy waxen burnished leaf,
With thy branches' red relief,
With thy polytinted fruit,-
In thy spring or autumn suit,-
Where begin, and oh! where end,—
Thou whose charms all art transcend?

Coyote.

BLOWN out of the prairie in twilight and dew,
Half bold and half timid, yet lazy all through;
Loath ever to leave, and yet fearful to stay,
He limps in the clearing, an outcast in grey.

A shade on the stubble, a ghost by the wall,
Now leaping, now limping, now risking a fall,
Lop-eared and large jointed, but ever alway
A thoroughly vagabond outcast in grey.

Here, Carlo, old fellow,-he's one of your kind,-Go, seek him, and bring him in out of the wind. What snarling, my Carlo! So even dogs may Deny their own kin in the outcast in grey.

Well, take what you will,-though it be on the sly,
Marauding, or begging,-I shall not ask why;
But will call it a dole, just to help on his way
A four-footed friar in orders of grey !

To a Sea-Bird.

(SANTA CRUZ, 1869.)

SAUNTERING hither on listless wings,
Careless vagabond of the sea,
Little thou heedest the surf that sings,
The bar that thunders, the shale that rings,---
Give me to keep thy company.

Little thou hast, old friend, that's new,

Storms and wrecks are old things to thee;

Sick am I of these changes, too;

Little to care for, little to rue,—'

I on the shore, and thou on the sea.

All of thy wanderings, far and near,

Bring thee at last to shore and me; All of my journeyings end them here, This our tether must be our cheer,

I on the shore, and thou on the sea.

Lazily rocking on ocean's breast,

Something in common, old friend, have we; Thou on the shingle seek'st thy nest,

I to the waters look for rest,

I on the shore, and thou on the sea.

What the Chimney Sang.

OVER the chimney the night-wind sang
And chanted a melody no one knew ;

And the Woman stopped, as her babe she tossed,
And thought of the one she had long since lost,
And said, as her tear-drops back she forced,
"I hate the wind in the chimney."

Over the chimney the night-wind sang

And chanted a melody no one knew ;

And the Children said, as they closer drew,

""Tis some witch that is cleaving the black night through,

'Tis a fairy trumpet that just then blew,

And we fear the wind in the chimney."

Over the chimney the night-wind sang

And chanted a melody no one knew;
And the Man, as he sat on his hearth below,
Said to himself, "It will surely snow,

And fuel is dear and wages low,

And I'll stop the leak in the chimney."