A poem. Published in 1915 in Sunset: The Pacific Monthly, Volume 35.
Night and the hill to me!
Silence no sound that jars;
Above, of stars a sea;
Below, a sea of stars!
Trancèd in slumber’s sway,
The city at its feet.
A tang of salty spray
Blends with the odors sweet
From garden-close and wall,
Where the madroño stood,
And tangled chaparral,
In the solitude.
Here, from Long Ago,
Rezánov’s sailors sleep;
There the Presidio;
Beyond the plumèd steep;
The waters, mile on mile,
Foam-fringed with feathery white;
The beaconed fortress isle,
And Yerba Buena’s light.
