George Sterling (4)

By Robert Couchman

I never found the happy chance to meet you;
Now you're gone.
I know you well; in a thousand lines I greet you,
Lines you've won
In this youths' fight. Let fleeting youth defeat you?
You laughed youth down!

Singer of Francisco's fog-draped hillsides
You loved best,
To whom you sang, your mystic mem'ry still rides
At its crest;
And going, friendly singer, where you will, bides
The boon you've quest.

Overland Monthly and Out West Magazine, March 1927, Volume LXXXV, Number 3, pg. 82.