Part 16 (1/2)
But winter was forgotten in the plains, For rivulets imprisoned long in cataracts Were leaping over waterfalls And shouting like a red bird, In an April cedar tree.
Milner drew a long deep breath of spring And walked into the parlor.
”Alfred!”
”Geraldine!”
”Last night I dreamed of Cornell days, And saw the redbuds blooming in the hills Behind the cliffs of Ithaca!”
”The ice in Cascadilla Creek is gone.
All night I heard the roaring of the falls!”
”The call of flickers sounded through the canyons Of Old b.u.t.termilk, and p.e.c.k.e.rwoods were beating Reveilles before the sun was up!”
”Two blue birds built a mansion In a dead oak trunk And called the world to witness!”
”Alfred!”
”Geraldine!”
”The train for California leaves at nine!”
Some hours out from Great Salt Lake, The sand dunes stretching southward O'er a waste of shrubbery and alkali Were s.h.i.+mmering in the suns.h.i.+ne Like copper kettles on a field of bronze.
”Dear Alfred, can you still recall Those afternoons upon the cliffs above Cayuga Lake?
The little city, Ithaca, Was like a jewel on the breast of Nature.
The lake a band of silver, stretching northward.
A hundred waterfalls were visible From where we used to sit.
We often thought the lime-washed houses Far to west, resembled whited decks Upon a sea of emerald; And wondered if our own good s.h.i.+p Would one day cast its anchor in the harbor.
Over to the right the Cornell towers, Like mediaeval castles beetling o'er the precipice, Were keeping silent watch above it all.
The memory of those blessed days alone Has kept my heart alive.”
”But Geraldine, our vessel richly laden Has at last come in Nor ever will put out to sea again.
Happy as those moments were, Forget the past, so fraught with bitterness to me.”
The desert now a hundred miles behind Was fading like a crescent sea beach In the setting sun.
Slowly like a giant serpent The Sunset Limited climbed the great Sierras And started down the western slope at dawn.
The valley of the Sacramento Never bloomed so beautiful before.
The blue Pacific through the haze Was like a canvas sea.
Peace permeated all the earth.
The sun at last was resting on the ocean's rim.
The turquoise waters turned to liquid gold.
”Life, O my beloved, is like eternal seas-- Emerald in the morning, changing into opal, Amethyst and pearl, but ruby red at last.
Behold the Golden Gate!
The seas beyond are all like that!”
Morning in the Sacramento!
Petals, dew and fragrance--indescribable!
Plumage, song and suns.h.i.+ne, And over all a California sky!
”O Alfred, could it only be like this forever!
Back yonder in New York, The world is built of brick and mortar, And men forget the handiwork of G.o.d.
How can a poet hope to win a name Where men are mad for gold?”
”A name! Why Geraldine! I had forgot To tell the story of my fame.