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.
O hill of memories!
Thy scroll so closely writ
With song, that bough and breeze
And bird should utter it:
Hill of desire and dream,
Youth’s visions manifold
That still in beauty gleam
From the sweet days of old!
Ring out thy solemn tone,
O far off Mission bell!
I keep the tryst, alone
With one who loved me well.
A voice I may not hear!
Face that I may not see,
Yet know a Presence near
To watch the hour with me . . .
How stately and serene
The moon moves up the sky;
How silverly between
The shores her footprints lie!
Peace that no shadow mars!
Night and the hill to me!
Below, a sea of stars!
Above, of stars a sea!
Ina Coolbrith (1841-1928) was an acclaimed American poet and a prominent figure in the Bay area literary community. She lived at 1067 Broadway in Russian Hill — fittingly nearby Ina Coolbrith Park.
Lovely! Thanks for sharing!