Memories of the Pacific Coast

I know a land, I, too,

Where warm keen incense on the sea-wind blows,

And all the winter long the skies are blue,

And the brown deserts blossom with the rose.

Deserts of all delight,

Cactus and palm and earth of thirsty gold,

Dark purple blooms round eaves of sun-washed white,

And that Hesperian fruit men sought of old.

O, to be wandering there,

Under the palm-trees, on that sunset shore,

Where the waves break in song, and the bright air

Is crystal clean; and peace is ours, once more.

There Beauty dwells,

Beauty, re-born in whiteness from the foam;

And Youth returns with all its magic spells,

And the heart finds its long-forgotten home,—

Home—home! Where is that land?

For, when I dream it found, the old hungering cry

Aches in the soul, drives me from all I planned,

And sets my sail to seek another sky.