Poems (Hoffman)/Ione Valley
IONE VALLEY
Bright rainbow hues, that paint the scene,Where childish eyes first gaze,Though mists of time may interveneTo dim your brightest rays;Yet through those mists, bright sunbeams shine,That long ago have shone.Thy memories are forever mine,Fair Valley of Ione.
Thy flowers, like benedictions sweet,In fields of fancy grow;As once they nodded at my feetIn that fair long ago;And still imagination straysThrough grain-fields, zephyr-blown;As in thy Summer's golden days,Fair Valley of Ione.
Thy roses, wet with nature's tears,Round memory's urn are twined;They strew the pathway of the years,The cloisters of the mind.Their velvet petals, crimson red,Lie strewn by fancy thrown;Where thoughts of thee are wont to tread,Fair Valley of Ione.
From censers, wrought of sunbeam gold,Thy lilac's incense burn;And apple-blossoms sweet unfold,Round memory's golden urn;And happy birds and honey bees,Still chant in joyous tone;Among the vines and locust trees,Fair Valley of Ione.
Thy purple clustering grapes are brightWith never fading dyes,Thy cherries, steeped in yellow light,To match thy sunset skies;And russet pears and apricotsTo blushing ripeness grown;Brightened thy shady orchard plots,Fair Valley of Ione.
But like the mildew on the rose,A blight forever there,Thy charms of rosy bloom, uncloseTo miasmatic air; Yet we, who for the rose of healthTo other climes have flown;May sing of all thy golden wealth,Fair Valley of Ione.
The wire-bridge, stretched from bank to bankAcross the brimming creek;The hill, with wild-flowers growing rankThe childish hands to pick;The goats that clambered up the rock,Rich meadows newly-mown;And Fido, barking down the walk,Are scenes of thine, Ione.
Ye foothills of Sierra's Range,Green be your sunny slopes!Ye fertile fields, where never changeIn recollection gropes;Ye banks and rocks and fences old,With moses overgrown;Of sunbeams be your settings, gold,Fair Valley of Ione.
Could I but wander to and fro'Midst fairest scenes to roam,I'd take the wings of morn and goTo childhood's valley home.The bird, with freedom in its breast,Though lured from zone to zone;Returns to find its earliest nest,Fair Valley of Ione.