Category: Poetry
My San Francisco on her seven hills is smiling, Beside an opalescent sunset sea; There is a magic in her bracing air beguiling, Yet filling all with tireless energy. The tingling tang of open sea the breeze is giving; The fog rolls in and drives heat languors out, And thrills...
My San Francisco on her seven hills is smiling, Beside an opalescent sunset sea; There is a magic in her bracing air beguiling, Yet filling all with tireless energy. The tinglin...
2. Chapter 2Yet the Wise Men gave no welcome, Turned their eyes from Maids to Chieftain. "Why, my Daughters, have you ventured Into this, the warrior's council? Well you know it is forbidde...
3. Chapter 3The lengthening shadows of evening Were creeping on Mount Tamalpais, Painting with purple the valleys, Gilding the ridges and summit. Green were the groves of the redwoods, Laci...