Original Voices from the Past

Claremont

Beautiful for Situation

Look past the dusty foreground, and the eye
Is satisfied; the view uplifts the soul.
A mountain-circle girds the town about
Like oriental cities safely walled.
Abruptly rise the loftly northward peaks,
Their contour rugged and irregular,
Save here and there, where wondrous symmetry
Of massive outline stands against the sky.
The mid-day sun reveals their seams and scars
And all that typifies resistance firm,
Unflinching attitude of bravery,
And mighty moral equilibrium;
But softened light and lengthening shadows, show
Serenely writ upon the mountains’ brow,
Such peace as those who mightily have won
May wear, as guerdon of their victory.
The mountain-wall at Westward, shows a gap
Through which sea-breezes steal, and bear across
The level stretches brown, their cooling draughts.
Beyond the orchard-dotted valley-land
That lies to Southward, rise the lower hills,
All convoluted by the sunset light
Into a witchery of dimpled smiles.
The Eastern foreground has the beauty, rare
In California landscapes, of the trees,
And far beyond, now clearly seen, now half
Enshrouded by the mist, three giant peaks
Stand out; Jacinto in his majesty,
San Bernardino’s faultless pyramid,
And Greyback, always in a rosy glow.
Each point of compass its reward will give
To eyes turned toward it. This one secret is
Why Claremont, spite of sage brush, is so loved
By those who make their home within her walls
And lift their eyes and souls up to her hills
For benedictions that can never fail.