George Sterling

(1869-1926 / United States)

George Sterling Poems

121. Autumn 4/7/2010
122. The Yellow Rose 4/7/2010
123. The Cool, Grey City Of Love- San Francisco 4/7/2010
124. Yosemite 4/7/2010
125. The Black Vulture 1/4/2003
126. Omnia Exeunt In Mysterium 4/7/2010
127. The City By The Sea -- San Francisco 4/7/2010

Comments about George Sterling

  • Nick G (4/15/2004 3:32:00 AM)

    George Sterling's poetry is very vivid and powerful. The best, which is not featured here, just might be 'In Extremis'. He has a way with his words and using colorful imagery to create beautiful and fantastic landscapes which certainly stand out. His book of poems entitled 'The House of Orchids' is monumental and worth seeking out. He carries on the Romantic tradition which Shelley, Keats and Poe were a part of. Sadly, Sterling's poetry is overlooked and he is not known by too many people. His best friend was Jack London and his work is nothing short of phenomenal. Other poems to check out by George would be 'Happiest', 'Flame', 'The Last Days' and 'The Tides of Change'. This writer deserves far more recognition for his extraordinary vision and superb skill. Also worth noting is that he went to a seminary where the poet/priest John Banister Tabb was a teacher.

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Best Poem of George Sterling

The City By The Sea -- San Francisco

At the end of our streets is sunrise;
At the end of our streets are spars;
At the end of our streets is sunset;
At the end of our streets the stars.

Ever the winds of morning
Are cool from the flashing sea-
Flowing swift from our ocean,
Till the fog-dunes crumble and flee.

Slender spars in the offing,
Mast and yard in the slips-
How they tell on the azure
Of the sea-contending ships!

Homeward into the sunset
Sill unwearied we go,
Till the northern hills are misty
With the amber of afterglow.

Stars that sink to our ...

Read the full of The City By The Sea -- San Francisco

The First Food

Mother, in some sad evening long ago,
   From thy young breast my groping lips were taken,
   Their hunger stilled, so soon again to waken,
But nevermore that holy food to know.

Ah! nevermore! for all the child might crave!
   Ah! nevermore! through years unkind and dreary!
   Often of other fare my lips are weary,
Unwearied once of what thy bosom gave.

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