San Francisco

San Francisco
401

Fair mistress of the great blue sea
Thy head is bent;
Upon thy sea thou dost not smile,
Thy heart is rent

What of the night before the morn?
Then were thine eyes
The envy of the stars that looked
From soul of skies

What of the night before the morn
On thy soft breast-
A heart-song floating in thy dreams-
Thy children rest

O, mistress of the great blue sea,
Thy breath of morn
The wild wave of the flame hath stilled,
Thy bosom torn

Thy trusted earth that pillowed thee
Hath scarred thy brow;
Deep in my heart were tears unwept-
I’m weeping now

“Look to the sea with me and smile,”
Thou tellest me ”
The mantle of my new morn’s pride
The world shall see”

The world shall see thy mantle’s pride;
White sails afar,
On ocean’s breast, through Golden Gate
Shall see thy star-

Thy star that shone for argonaut,
For pioneer,
Who breathed in thee their spirits’ frust
That knew no fear
Francis Lee Chauvan