Los Angeles herald., 1905-12-17

yond estimation. for that which she
gave out so freely.
So it is that one above all else in
her writings finds this great quality
of Mrs. Otis soul-her uplift. And one
need not marvel that even in her
death her husband found his chief
solace in that joy and brightness of soul
which made ii impossible for him to
mourn as one without hope. For had
she not written:
/ know not what's within me,
What thoughts may leap to consciousness
and live
In strength of purpose and intensity
OF deeds-deeds that unto the world shall
give
To what else were dark shining glory,
Bright with the luster OF their simple
List o list! Does not some echo near We
OF the grand What-may-be if we but see
Duty at actions helm guiding for aye
The race of men? Oh. what high destiny
Swims in the vast which all about us lies!
Waiting to crown us with its rich emprise,
AS great as God would have us, momently
bear
Us up, past all those feeble pauses where
The soul sol falters, up where high endeavor
Strength unto being, and the highest
lives
The highest in us that is godlike. pure
As angel purpose, and that shall endure
While being lasts.
This was the philosophy of Mrs. Otis,
and well does it sum up her qualities
of life, as one finds them in this
volume-hope, cheer, reliance on God,
belief in the future, confidence in abil-
ity to gain the highest end, If ones life
be worthy.
This spirit OF uplift is therefore the
keynote, one may say, of this book of
her writings. 1t constantly appears
throughout the galaxy of verse and
prose. 1t is evident from first to
last; it never is obscured it shines
brightly from beginning to end This
was her message to the world-this, as
she herself wrote it:
oh, it is sweet to live and ever know
A perfect love is yours one full of grace
With never in its perfectness a place
For any thought but that does upward
grow
To loyalty and tenderness-to know
You one true hearts most sacred
thought may share,
Doubling its joys and halving all its
care.
Life is worth living when we live it so:
The world is fair, we do not see its tears,
Nor feel its griefs, nor tremble at its
fears.
'Tis always morning in the heart of love:
lis always, youth, for Love does ne'er
grow old,
'Tis summer always, doubt alone is cold.
Loves world is fair as any world above.
And who may better express it? Or
so we'll?
OF what did Mrs. Otis write? Is not
that already answered? OF all the
world, and all that therein is, as it pic
tured itself to her. OF high and lowly
things, of beauty in everything, humble
and great, of all things that make for
the higher part of life.
OF her own dear state, California:
Land glorious in beauty! Thy broad
fields
Are orchard-nursing breasts, while vine
yards wide
browse in the daylight, with their pur-
Draining the sunshine, which forever
Its ripening splendor till the soft warm
eve
Drops down upon the land. its starry
Filling with tender light the far-oft
skies
Ewes when the song of bird
Is tremulously heard,
Falling within the starry silences.
In the dusk gardens where the blossoms
sweet
Baptize with fragrance evry wanderers
feet.
And of the fields and the flowers
which she knew so well: those flowers,
each of whom was q note in the SYM
phony of joy AID beauty which the
world sang as it rolled on its destined
course:
All, golden poppies on the hillsides grow
ing.
Where the breezes breath like tide is
flowing
In ripples DER the grasses.
Which curtsey as IL passes
You lift your heads a-smiling,
The suns full light beguiling.
TO shine out from your faces
And light the hillside places
With a glory like crown.
All those old mission days in Cali
fcrnia. when the padres walked bare
footed along her silver shores, when
Here they the banner of their faith un-
furled.
Planted the cross upon these sunset
shores,
And. swung their mission bells beneath
the trees.
OF the years passings she wrote and
of the changefud seasons; to her mind,
this professional OF time carried with
1t not sadness but ever-shifting beauty,
and this she told. And CT the drought
ana the rain, the curse and the saliva.
ton OF these lands
o rain washed sapphire skies; how fair
With beauty Infinite are ye
Heaven lies In your immcnstY,
So far 50 bright In deeps Of air