Complete Poetical Works

SAN FRANCISCO

     (FROM THE SEA)

     Serene, indifferent of Fate,
     Thou sittest at the Western Gate;

     Upon thy height, so lately won,
     Still slant the banners of the sun;

     Thou seest the white seas strike their tents,
     O Warder of two continents!

     And, scornful of the peace that flies
     Thy angry winds and sullen skies,

     Thou drawest all things, small, or great,
     To thee, beside the Western Gate.

     O lion's whelp, that hidest fast
     In jungle growth of spire and mast!

     I know thy cunning and thy greed,
     Thy hard high lust and willful deed,

     And all thy glory loves to tell
     Of specious gifts material.

     Drop down, O Fleecy Fog, and hide
     Her skeptic sneer and all her pride!

     Wrap her, O Fog, in gown and hood
     Of her Franciscan Brotherhood.

     Hide me her faults, her sin and blame;
     With thy gray mantle cloak her shame!

     So shall she, cowled, sit and pray
     Till morning bears her sins away.

     Then rise, O Fleecy Fog, and raise
     The glory of her coming days;

     Be as the cloud that flecks the seas
     Above her smoky argosies;

     When forms familiar shall give place
     To stranger speech and newer face;

     When all her throes and anxious fears
     Lie hushed in the repose of years;

     When Art shall raise and Culture lift
     The sensual joys and meaner thrift,

     And all fulfilled the vision we
     Who watch and wait shall never see;

     Who, in the morning of her race,
     Toiled fair or meanly in our place,

     But, yielding to the common lot,
     Lie unrecorded and forgot.