Miriam Allen deFord

From “Under the Cliff”

THE EARTH has carved a hollow cup,

In which, most delicately set,

Tall redwood boughs are lifted up,

To form a sky-enlacing net.

There, on the ground made green with fern,

The sunshine lies in pools of light;

And iris holds a fragile urn,

With morning’s gems of dew bedight.

There is no sound but water going,

And sunlight thrilling through the air.

There is no breath but breezes blowing,

And wild quail rustling to their lair.

Here is a deep and drowsing haven,

That woven sun-rays pierce and cross;

And on the peaceful trees are graven

The little footprints of the moss.

Sweet dreaming canyon, shadow-bound

Yet sunshine-stippled all the day,

The calm skies circle you around,

But you lie deeper hushed than they!