Juanita

you will come, my bird, Bonita? Come! For I by steep and stone Have built such nest for you, Juanita, As not eagle bird hath known. Rugged! Rugged as Parnassus! Rude, as all roads I have trod— Yet are steeps and stone-strewn passes Smooth o’erhead, and nearest God. Here black thunders of my cañon Shake its walls in Titan wars! Here white sea-born clouds companion With such peaks as know the stars! Here madrona, manzanita— Here the snarling chaparral House and hang o’er steeps, Juanita, Where the gaunt wolf loved to dwell! Dear, I took these trackless masses Fresh from Him who fashioned them; Wrought in rock, and hewed fair passes, Flower set, as sets a gem. Aye, I built in woe. God willed it; Woe that passeth ghosts of guilt; Yet I built as His birds builded— Builded, singing as I built. All is finished! Roads of flowers Wait your loyal little feet. All completed? Nay, the hours Till you come are incomplete. Steep below me lies the valley, Deep below me lies the town, Where great sea-ships ride and rally, And the world walks up and down. O, the sea of lights far streaming When the thousand flags are furled— When the gleaming bay lies dreaming As it duplicates the world! You will come, my dearest, truest? Come, my sovereign queen of ten; My blue skies will then be bluest; My white rose be whitest then: Then the song! Ah, then the sabre Flashing up the walls of night! Hate of wrong and love of neighbor— Rhymes of battle for the Right!