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In Southern California
- WHERE the cocoa and cactus are neighbors,
- Where the fig and the fir tree are one;
- Where the brave corn is lifting bent sabres
- And flashing them far in the sun;
- Where maidens blush red in their tresses
- Of night, and retreat to advance,
- And the dark, sweeping eyelash expresses
- Deep passion, half hush'd in a trance;
- Where the fig is in leaf, where the blossom
- Of orange is fragrant as fair,--
- Santa Barbara's balm in the bosom,
- Her sunny, soft winds in the hair;
- Where the grape is most luscious; where laden
- Long branches bend double with gold;
- Los Angelos leans like a maiden,
- Red, blushing, half shy, and half bold.
- Where passion was born and where poets
- Are deeper in silence than song,
- A love knows a love, and may know its
- Reward, yet may never know wrong.
- Where passion was born and where blushes
- Gave birth to my songs of the South,
- And a song is a love-tale, and rushes,
- Unchid, through the red of the mouth;
- Where an Adam in Eden reposes,
- I repose, I am glad, and take wine
- In the clambering, redolent roses,
- And under my fig and my vine.
- Joaquin Miller
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