Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO, by AMELIA WOODWARD TRUESDELL


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO, by                    
First Line: Onward from 'las flores' rancho, following the shore- / line steeps
Last Line: Flash the ruins as old faces gleam with thoughts of long ago.
Subject(s): Missions & Missionaries; San Juan Capistrano, California


Onward from "Las Flores" rancho, following the shoreline steeps,
Ten leagues distant from San Luis, 'midst the hills a fair vale sleeps;

Here the Coast Range, northward trending, opens in a tiny gate,
Where without, the chafing billows centuries for entrance wait.

Where th' arroyo, called "Viejo," finds Trabuco's loit'ring stream,
And as young explorers seek they ocean-world's alluring gleam,

Stands the Mission Capistrano in a spot which well beguiles
From th' impassioned sun departing, all his hoarded farewell smiles;

Spot which mildest moons illumine, where stars scintillating rise
With soft semi-tropic lustre—light unknown to colder skies.

In this calm and restful valley stands a shrine to one whose head
Knew no rest, when as Franciscan, poverty and war he wed;

He who from the Turks accurséd, strove to tear the shrines profaned
By the touch of infidels, and by the turbaned shadows stained;

Who great riches, for the Master, with devoted life laid down,
Grieving he was "deemed unworthy" to receive a martyr's crown.

Blend the olive and the orange round his shrine their shaded green;
Tender bloom of gnarléd vines, tells boundless wealth that once was seen.

And they say that sometimes voices chant within this lonely shrine,
And at midnight spectral tapers round its burning crosses shine;

Melt such phantoms at the dawning with the shadows from its slope,
Gleams on it the morning sunlight, but for it no morning hope!

Soft 'gainst ocean's hoarse boom falls the hum of hours in idle flight,
As a picture's darker background brings the tender shades to light.

Mountain perfumes and sea-odors to a sweet narcotic blend,
And each day with languor ravished, slowly loiters to its end;

Till life seems an old man dreaming, and with evening's wond'rous glow
Flash the ruins as old faces gleam with thoughts of long ago.





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