Upon the arrival of our summer weather, this bit of refreshment is offered with appologies to the current literary community of La Honda ...
Far in the bosom of the mountains
On the La Honda winding deep--
A dreamland where the redwoods sleep
On the slopes of azure blue and green;
The rambling brook with boulders strewn
And shaded 'neath the hazel bough,
Sighing soft eternal vow
To dells and pleasant fastness;
With banks with elders soft and white
And tiger lilies, speckled brown,
In grace and silence bending down
To hear the water's babbling.
Thin winding paths along the wood
By creeping vine and shady hill
Where sings the crested blue-jay shrill,
The robins, chirping gleefully.
And oft at noon in idleness
I lie beneath thy shady trees,
And list the sighing of the breeze,
The splashing of the waterfall.
And hear the lowing of the kine
While browsing on some far-off slope,
The wood dove cooing while I mope
And sink to gentle slumbering.
July 8, 1888. By E. T. C. (Probably Asa W. Collins)
From the San Mateo Times & Gazette, Saturday, July 21, 1888