University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

Page 31 text:

THE REDWOOD n TO CHATA A frail green tree grew lonely by the way On some far mount where winds blew all the day; From morn till night it wrestled with the storm That sought its tender beauty to deform. It found no peace, save in the quiet night When all the dying winds, as if contrite Gave place to gentle zephyrs and lent rest,— For peace unbroken w as its one request. So thus remained the tree for many years — Repose it only found in the dewy tears Of some dark pulsing night, who gave it sleep Upon its breast, and there it ceased to weep. At last some providential wind did blow A little seed and planted it below What cooling shade the tender tree could give That it might grow and with it ever live. The seed, as God commanded, grew and grew And twined about the tree, as friend most true. Its dew-stained tendrils, till at last The tree embraced, felt not the impetuous blast. Thus they remained together till one day Some maddened wind that happ ' ed along that way, Tore from the little tree its only friend And there, alone, it struggled to the end.

Page 30 text:

10 THE REDWOOD unfinished book, Henry Harland looked into the world; to testify of the truth. continually for a turn in the disease His death took place at San Remo on which would permit him to: Sit up December 20th, 1905, at the age of forty- and work, sit down and slogg. four. His body lies beside his people, I have been lazy too long. Oh, but in consecrated ground. It lies in shall I ever know again the joy of the peaceful, elm-avenued cemetery at writing beautiful words, of chiselling, — Norwich, Connecticut, and a Roman be made a sweeping, tender gesture of Cross marks the spot. And the cross is the hand, like a sculptor modelling his within sight of his old home, clay, — of chiselling beautiful phrases? For this was I born, for this came I THE DREAMUR G. Gl,ASTONBURY. Time plucked for me a single golden flower That God had planted in Eternity. See, said he smiling, I give it thee To do with as thou wilt, this priceless hour. Musing upon it, Shall I purchase power With this— or fame? I thought, or shall it be To duty given— or deathless charity? Or can love lure it from me? Like a shower Of autumn leaves by vagrant breezes blown My thoughts flashed on me,— ah, too fair to choose Among them; i must think, and dream, and muse. It must be some great deed to make me known. This plan, or this; no, that; or shall I use— Nay, cease to plan, said Time, thine hour has flown. M. T. Dooling, Jr. S. F. Bulletin.

Page 32 text:

12 THE REDWOOD The lonely tree once more fought all the day With the inclement winds—but soon the fray Came to an end,— the tender little tree. Was torn from out its feed with savage glee. Thus as the tree I spent a many day In fighting off this world, that wotald Y aylay My aching heart and drown it in the wave Of this vain life that seeketh to deprave. From year to year I fought my weary ■way Hoping to reach that land, where I ' ve heard say Eternal rest and quietude abide, Where I shall be forever by His side. So too, as did that frail and tender plant I found some rest when midnight zephyrs chant To Him that ruleth over all that sleep, To Him and Her who think of those who weep. He saw my prayer reflected in my tears And in my heart he read that many years I ' d sought this world in vain for some true friend Whose love for me would last unto the end. Behold! my dear, He sendeth you to me. Behold! the sinner ' s Comfort has heard my plea, For now my heart abides within your breast- But woe is me! for there ' twiil never rest.