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 ocean,
- Winds that visit our strand,
The heavens are your pathway,
- Where is a gladder land!
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.
From The San Francisco Bulletin, vol. 135, no. 19 (Nov. 30, 1922), p. 14. Transcribed by Alan Gullette.
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