In them these skies and airs, these mountain peaks, Shasta, Nevadas, These huge precipitous cliffs, this amplitude, these valleys, far Yosemite, To be in them absorb’d, assimilated.
…nor perfume of foreign court or indoor library; But an odor I’d bring as from forests of pine in Maine, or breath of an Illinois prairie, With open airs of Virginia or Georgia or Tennessee, or from Texas uplands, or Florida’s glades, Or the Saguenay’s black stream, or the wide blue spread of Huron, With presentment of Yellowstone’s scenes, or Yosemite, And murmuring under, pervading all, I’d bring the rustling sea-sound, That endlessly sounds from the two Great Seas of the world.
Election Day, November, 1884 If I should need to name, O Western World, your powerfulest scene and show, ’Twould not be you, Niagara—nor you, ye limitless prairies—nor your huge rifts of canyons, Colorado, Nor you, Yosemite—nor Yellowstone, with all its spasmic geyser-loops ascending to the skies, appearing and disappearing, Nor Oregon’s white cones—nor Huron’s belt of mighty lakes—nor Mississippi’s stream: —This seething hemisphere’s humanity, as now, I’d name—the still small voice…
There are no more uses of "Yosemite" in the book.
Show samples from other sources
With the stereoscope, the two pictures, separately, always looked somewhat alike: two views of Half Dome in Yosemite National Park, say, or two views of the Grand Canyon.
Margaret Peterson Haddix -- Uprising
On the mantel, Mae was sure she could see a photo she recognized, of Mercer with his brothers and parents, on a trip they’d taken to Yosemite.