George Sterling Poems
|122.||The Yellow Rose||4/7/2010|
|123.||The Cool, Grey City Of Love- San Francisco||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
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 ...
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.