Golden Gate Park

By Edgar Lee Masters

(For George Sterling)


It was a day of light over the vernal sea,
Light and the fringe of foam on the soundless waves
Far down the cliffs; and green hills like the graves
Of gods long dead, yet brooding time to be.
Sound of the wind in our ears in a key
Of epic mourning out of the viewless caves
Of sunny skies; and distance that broods and craves
More than the heart can give. How silently
The earth floats here! How cool these soaring pines
Sphered in the crystal of this light! How slow
Beats now the heart! How comforted the flow
Of human passion here, that now divines
Through the spirit of the Pacific far below
What balm there is for death, for life what shrines!

Overland Monthly and Out West Magazine, Dec 1927, Volume LXXXV, Number 12, pg 365.