The changing light at San Francisco
is none of your East Coast light
none of your
pearly light of Paris
The light of San Francisco
Photo & Poem Gallery
Than softly falling snow
Fussing over every flake
And making sure
It won’t wake someone.
To feel and speak the astonishing beauty of things – earth,
stone and water,
Beast, man and woman, sun, moon and stars –
The blood-shot beauty of human nature, its thoughts,
frenzies and passions,
Lift every voice and sing
Till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Swifts turn in the heights of the air;
higher still turn the invisible stars.
When day withdraws to the ends of the earth
their fires shine on a dark expanse of sand.
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon;
Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
I know there's something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
What makes a nation's pillars high
And its foundations strong?
What makes it mighty to defy
The foes that round it throng?
It is not gold. Its kingdoms grand
Go down in battle shock;
Its shafts are laid on sinking sand,
Not on abiding rock.
That pretty little beast, a poem,
has a mind of its own.
Sometimes I want it to crave apples
but it wants red meat.
Sometimes I want to walk peacefully
on the shore
and it wants to take off all its clothes
and dive in.
- Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
- The flying cloud, the frosty light:
- The year is dying in the night;
- Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
- Ring out the old, ring in the new,
- Ring, happy bells, across the snow: