California, California
Another hymn to add to the river of
poesy and prose about the fabled land. Dedicated to Morgan.
O California,
golden California! Your myth
glistens with
sun’s splendor in my mind, of land
crowning
America, yet slipping her grip, republic
found and
established ever in its right and independence.
What glow of
promise you exude that guides men
through ages to
the Pacific shore? What metal gilds
the gate that
limits and encloses vast, worldly port,
that speaks of
a new nobility soon to be unlimited?
It would seem
ancient Arcadia far outshines you
as land of
Socrates and Plato, and Hesperia ranks
far above you
as father of Cicero and Caesar: men
who ruled the
world or watched it fall apart in chaos.
Yet some
destiny is written for you in yellow ink
with diamond
grain upon Cilo’s still unrolled book,
a prophesy of
prosperity to rival all of China’s might
an oracle of
power magnificent to shrink the whole Pacific.
Does
Civilization’s progress end at this end of world
that greets the
sinking sun? It seems it is here she took
sand and taught
men to craft it into machine to unite
the world in
unseen link, perfecting science and art.
Will she take
up in Sacramento’s valley long abode,
or soon move
upon the waters to the islands? Make
great circle or
return again by way she came, enticed
by the
universities men build for her luxurious palace?
Perhaps she
will prefer California as her throne
and rich
domain, grant easy loaf to the scores that
toil beneath
the burning noon, and not rise until
her work is
done, or cut short in war by men’s mania.
Perhaps the
east of this empire will fall, and this best
or only part
shall remain as last promise and mystery,
rise as second
Hyperborea to match and excel the
legends of the
past. God alone can speak the verdict.
No comments:
Post a Comment