Clarence Urmy Poems

Not what we have, but what we use;
Not what we see, but what we choose-
These are the things that mar or bless
The sum of human happiness.
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WITHIN my heart I long have kept
A little chamber cleanly swept,
Embroidered with a fleur-de-lis,
And lintel boughs of redwood-tree;
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A sleeping beauty, hammock-swung,
Beside the sunset sea,
And dowered with riches, wheat, and oil,
Vineyard and orange tree;
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What is the Old Year? 'Tis a book
On which we backward sadly look,
Not willing quite to see it close,
For leaves of violet and rose
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Above me rise the snowy peaks
Where golden sunbeams gleam and quiver,
And far below, toward Golden Gate,
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Adown the land great rivers glide
With lyric odes upon their lips,
The sheltered bay with singing tide
Forever woos the storm-tossed ships—
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AS I came down Mount Tamalpais,
To north the fair Sonoma Hills
Lay like a trembling thread of blue
Beneath a sky of daffodils;
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