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The Passing of the Adobe

by Lelia Ayer Mitchell

Sun baked a velvet bronze with mosses creeping
O'er crumbling walls of weeds and bat-hung eaves,
Silk webbed a silver grey with lizards sleeping
By half-hung door on beds of withered leaves.

Long days and hills with buzzards wheeling, wheeling
In faithful vigil keeping watch with stars,
Wild bees and vines with darting swallows stealing
Through creviced roof and broken lattice bars.

Lone tribute to the West the adobe is going
With the Padres from the trails etched by the sea,
Dream days and mirth with fadeless halos glowing
In twilight's glory wafting memories back to thee.

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