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SAN FRANCISCO
by Miller, Cincinnatus Heine (Joaquin) [1841-1913]

Such darkness as when Jesus died!
Then sudden dawn drave all before.
Two wee brown tomtits, terrified,
Flashed through my open cottage door;
Then instant out and off again
And left a stillness like to pain—
Such stillness, darkness, sudden dawn
I never knew or looked upon!
This ardent, Occidental dawn
Dashed San Francisco's streets with gold,
Just gold and gold to walk upon,
As he of Patmos sang of old.
And still, so still, her streets, her steeps,
As when some great soul silent weeps;
And oh, that gold, that gold that lay
Beyond, above the tarn, brown bay!
And then a bolt, a jolt, a chill,
And Mother Earth seemed as afraid;
Then instant all again was still,
Save that my cattle from the shade
Where they had sought firm, rooted clay,
Came forth loud lowing, glad and gay,
Knee-deep in grasses to rejoice
That all was well, with trumpet voice.
Not so yon city—darkness, dust,
Then martial men in swift array,
Then smoke, then flames, then great guns thrust
To heaven, as if pots of clay—
Cathedral, temple, palace, tower—
An hundred wars in one wild hour!
And still the smoke, the flame, the guns
The piteous wail of little ones!
The mad flame climbed the costly steep,
But man, defiant, climbed the flame.
What battles where the torn clouds keep!
What deeds of glory in God's name!
What sons of giants—giants, yea—
Or beardless lad or veteran gray.
Not Marathon nor Waterloo
Knew men so daring, dauntless, true.
Three days, three nights, three fearful days
Of death, of flame, of dynamite,
Of God's house thrown a thousand ways;
Blown east by day, blown west by night—
By night? There was no night. Nay, nay,
The ghoulish flame lit nights that lay
Crouched down between this first, last day.
I say those nights were burned away!
And jealousies were burned away,
And burned were city rivalries,
Till all, white crescenting the bay,
Were one harmonious hive of bees.
Behold the bravest battle won!
The City Beautiful begun:
One solid San Francisco, one,
The fairest sight beneath the sun.
Joaquin Miller.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg