The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1891-12-25
OUR LADY
CONTRIBUTORS
Well-KnoWn Salt Lake Ladies Discuss Some
Very important Matters.
LEAVES FROM MY DIARY.


HNTXIs other things. few reflections
NZ4N&Ns8A. and some stories of sculptors |
kbS2TE 81 and their work. 1t reads as
S5E9 follows:
SF1SK July 14-This morning travei
SFI, back in my imagination to my home
on the eastern sea, which left almost a
month ago. AS recall the shifting pano-
rama, all the glories of river, plain and
mountain delight me again as they did on
the journey.
For some reason my mind now dwells es-
pecially on the flowers that saw, among
which were the sunflowers.
They fash upon that inward eye,
Which is the bliss OF solitude"
And l find pleasure in the story that l
heard concerning them; and whether it be
true or not, it interests me. The story
gees that these flowers sprung up in the
roads traversed by the pioneers, and thus
marked the paths taken by them. 1t
further states that the heavy wheels broke
the soil and brought to light hidden seeds
that Immediately terminated and soon
were
bringing the dusty road " 18th harmless gold.
This story suggests to me an analogy.
John Burroughs has since taught me the
untrustworthiuess of analogies, but how
dear they are to the feminine soulD Here
it is in a sonnet-that exquisite form which
Ike globe little makes and little
mars, though it can reflect a world OF
beauty when used by the masters of song:
with this key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart; the melody
OF this small Lutte gave ease to Petrarch's
wound"
Here is my crude attempt to use the form
to preserve thought that has pleased me:
THE sUNFLowERs ON THE PLAINS.
AS pioneers in lands before untrod.
The earth's unmeasured riches will reveal,
Where'er they cut the soil with heavy wheel,
Since bursting forth from ev'ry uplurned sod,
Bright flowers will bloom that in the breeze
will nod
Their heads in glee, and make the toilsome path
Behind-a record-writing aftermath
Whose shining characters are formed by Cod
So those who journey thro' the world OF thought
To heights before untried by human soul,
With hearts that burn by day and oft by night
With one desire-to reach distant goal
Can never know what work by them is wrought
What hidden seeds they bring to life and light.
gulls the other day at the lake | heard a
pretty story about them.
Now if l had jewel 1 should have it set
in tilaments of gold that I might wear it
and enjoy it; so when gem of another
sort-a conceit, story, or something that
pleases my fancy comes into my possession,
Sc. it in bright ornaments of rhyme, and
then can enjoy it more fully. I fear the
setting is of tawdry BRASS but as these
children of my brain are never sent out to
weary the ears of the world l do not feel
very guilty.
How strange it is that we never ridicule
woman who paints queer things on china,
or who brings out her fancy work to be ad-
mired, but let her rhyme and she is lost.
Indeed, L feel that if show my intellectual
fancy work, shall in the minds of man.
write myself down an undesirable name.
Nevertheless here is the story worked in
words.
The Sea Gulls.
The lake dons sunset splendor
And the clouds with beauty glow,
Returning TO days sovereign,
Who far away must go,
Farewells as warm and radiant
AS those ne doth bestow.
turn and watch the mountains
That are smiling in the east
With dainty hues of a-sheIls,
For eye and soul feast.
Lo from afar coming winging
In graceful curves OF hight
A flock ofhappy SEA gulls
Downy and gray and white
The scenes around me vanish,
And the hills no more l see
An ocean and a vessel
At once appear to me.
When last saw the sea gulls
Iheard the ocean roar
But now vast wide country
Doth bar me from that shore,
All! how watched that vessel
AS it sailed out in the bay,
To treasure last fond glimpses
OF one il bore away.
The ship G ows faint and fainter,
And it's almost out of sight
only see sea gull,
With breast of cleaning white.
And as the bird mounts higher,
1t still compels my eye,
AS in the golden silence
Upon the azure sky.
1t writes in lines of beauty
With sun touched wing and breast,
tune that fills my spirit
With loye for the east and west.
It bringeth back sweet memories,
And feel present bliss
In the perfect poems of nature
What sweeter Joy than thisH
Down fly the birds beside me,
And they seem to feel no fear,
But light and fly at pleasure,
Now far away, now near.
Their fearlessness reminds me
OF story that is told
OF how the gulls brought rescue
"In the brave days of Old"
The pioneers had labored
And harvest waved at last
When from the hills an army
Over the region passed