Classic Poem

A Song.

I came from Santa Barbara,
I went to San Jose,
Blue sky above — blue sea beside,
Wild gold along the way —
The lovely lavish blossom gold
Ran wild along the way.

The purple mountains loomed beyond,
The soft hills rolled between,
From crest to crest, like smoke at rest,
The eucalyptus screen
Its careless foliage drifting by
Against that all-enfolding sky
In dusky glimmering green;
With live-oak masses drowsing dark
On the slopes of April green;
More joy than any eye can hold,
Not only blue, not only gold,
But bronze and olive green.