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Page 194 text:
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SAN LUIS VALLEY Wide, these Margarita Mountainsg A Open canyons, wide and deep Leading to San Luis Valley Then to eastward boldly sweep. Low they crouch, that o'er their shoulder Santa Rosafs head may rise Reaching for a dream-like vision Of the sea-reilected skies. Down the canyon runs a river, Luis called for kingly saint, Winter current bold and rapidg Summer stream with languor faint. Go to the valley of San Luis When the autumn morn is there, While the sun's magnetic furnace Seethes the aromatic air. For the Christmas holly's redd'ning Unplucked on the arroyo bank ' ' Where, ensnarled with rugged Willows Oily castor-beans grow rank. Here the larkspur, masquerader, Makes a shrubby hillside gay. Hangs thermanzanita shyly, And berries bright by mountain way. Jack Henry, A9 A DREARY LAND Stubby bushes, Cactus here, Yucca there And sage brush drear. Land of quiet, Unbroken night, Burning sun, Stars so bright. Deserted! bare! Heaps of sand, A Weary place, A dreary land. . Lloyd Austin, A9 One Hundred Eighty-eight
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Page 193 text:
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,gf T. ,Vw TT ,Aw V. :Q. E-.'l'iSl'ii'izi J igii s2Y'J 'A' THE DESERT Q The once bright golden isunset : Now has faded into night, And purple mists of evening Q Have hidden it from sight. It seems that in the distance, Far against the shadowed sky, H V I see thy dark inhabitants , , E Of centuries gone by. A M Ah, did they dance beneath this moon That shines on us tonight? And did their shimmering trinkets gleam Touched by its misty light? ' Under yon tall and stately palm Were maidens wooed and won? And did they rest in its cool shade When daytime trials were done? Beneath thy sands so silent Lie ancient tribes asleep With voices hushed forever While thou their secrets keep. Oh fruitful land that once thouwert While even Time was young, A ' Wouldst thou thy mysteries reveal If thou but hadst a tongue? Margaret hlo, 119. Ka NIGHT FALLS IN THE DESERT Out in the desert, bleak and cold, Watching the wind carve the cliffs so old, Watchiimg the cliffs, colored red and gold Serene is the desert bleak and cold. Grand cliffs in the sunset, made aeons ago, I sit there, enraptured, behold and lo! The sunset colors, as I watch from below, Fade from those cliffs, made aeons ago. Gray clouds in the darkness, bleak and cold, Slowly encircle the cliffs so old, The desert is gloomy, no longer gold, Night falls on the desert, bleak and cold. Betty Warrefz, 18. One H u ndrecl Eighty-seven
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