A rose-shot purple on the sunset hills,
And skies of golden fire;
Silence that like a benediction fills
The hour, save where the lyre
If ocean throbs, in strains that fall and rise,
Against the harbor bar;
Then dusk, and on the brow of Tamalpais
Trembles a single star.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem