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299 San Jacinto Westward the mesa Squares seaward like an altar, Lit by the wax white yucca candles. White undersides of lilac leaves Riffle in the sea wind, Breaking in blue smoke of blossoms, Blue as incense and fresher, Thick stems of manzanita and mahogany Twine like carved choir stalls. There sits the maiden thrush, There the treble of the cañon wren Drips like cool water out of sight. Was that the wind that stirred The antlered chaparral, Or blacktail, nose to flank Slipping delicately? Did grey sisters glide To the organ loft, Or did the dun sides of mule deer Bound up the rocky stairs of San Jacinto? Far down the nave, the sea Murmurs its immemorial responses, White panicles of greasewood bow and lift Like ladies at their prayers, And where their green mantillas part Run lines of yellow violets Like golden rosaries Broken and scattered in the grass. 300 * Outside, against thick yellow sands The spangled ice plant spreads A rosy web, beyond it blue of the beach lupines, Then the orange streak Of dormidera dims the mustard gold. That was old Spain, I think, Who passed this way, And like a careless dancer left Her scarf along the shore. Editor’s Notes El Palacio, March 1919, 93. Mount San Jacinto rises in the San Jacinto Mountain Range, Riverside County, California. ...

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