George Sterling (2)

By Joyce Mayhew

Why should he stay until no longer eager feet
     Spurt white sand over dune flowers as he runs?
Why should he wait until the pulse's failing beat
     Shall cloud for him the testimony of the suns?

Say that he heard, far-off, the steady wind of death,
     And chose to tack before it with a scarlet sail…

He is pagan at last, and free, beneath their forest trees,
     And I think the ancient gods are happy that he came;
A little sad for Carmel River, but at ease
     In their vast dusky meadows, he calls the stars by name.

The Overland Monthly and Out West Magazine (1868-1935); Dec 1927; Volume LXXXV; Number 12; Pg 377