For George Sterling (2)

By Axton Clark

Obit Nov.16, 1926

The silent waterfalls of the fog over the blue ridge of
Tamalpais at evening,—
The white foam of their falling, spread air-hung in the twilight
across the bee-hive hill-lights of Berkeley,—
The floating continent of blue and gray and white between
diamond-sharp stars and the pearl-dull water,
The cool, the quiet, the even:
These shall not forget him.

The columned houses of the redwood, the deep-cut canyons,
roofed with the frail frayed foliage,
Floored with the frailer ferns, engardened in red-arabesque
manzanita and naked madrona,
Dripping, each leaf, with the mist and the breath of the ocean,
a thousand delicate rains, a million delicate raindrops,
The cool, the quiet, the even:
These shall not forget him.

The streets lampstreaked over Telegraph Hill, over Russian;—
the fog-gray rows of the houses
Jutting baywindowed, or climbing, terraced, the hillsides
grayer and grayer as darker the evening advances;—
The wharves and the ferry tower, the pile-cleft water reflecting
pendants of shattering emeralds, pendants of splintering rubies,—
The cool, the quiet, the even:
These shall not forget him.

The dancer edging the surf on the sand, the girl by the ocean
the dancer beside her;—
The watcher of blood-red stars of Antares, Aldebaran, searching
the depthless window of heaven;—
The lover of wintry moonstone; of vultures, Sierra—upcircling;
of crucified men for truth; —the lover of lovers and love unending,
The cool, the quiet, the even:
These shall not forget him.

For he was among them, and of them:
A friend of the misty evenings,
A faun, a half-god shaded in redwood temples;
For he was a lover of beauty dancing sea-skimming, surf-showered,
A watcher at gates swung wide on eternal sunset,
A sad-eyed lover of truth, the star-enshrouded and hidden,
The cool, the quiet, the even.

Overland Monthly and Out West Magazine, Nov 1927, Volume LXXXV, Number 11, pg. 339.