Obit Nov.16, 1926
The silent waterfalls of the fog over the blue ridge of
Tamalpais at evening,—
The white foam of their falling, spread air-hung in the twilight
across the bee-hive hill-lights of Berkeley,—
The floating continent of blue and gray and white between
diamond-sharp stars and the pearl-dull water,
The cool, the quiet, the even:
These shall not forget him.
The columned houses of the redwood, the deep-cut canyons,
roofed with the frail frayed foliage,
Floored with the frailer ferns, engardened in red-arabesque
manzanita and naked madrona,
Dripping, each leaf, with the mist and the breath of the ocean,
a thousand delicate rains, a million delicate raindrops,
The cool, the quiet, the even:
These shall not forget him.
The streets lampstreaked over Telegraph Hill, over Russian;—
the fog-gray rows of the houses
Jutting baywindowed, or climbing, terraced, the hillsides
grayer and grayer as darker the evening advances;—
The wharves and the ferry tower, the pile-cleft water reflecting
pendants of shattering emeralds, pendants of splintering rubies,—
The cool, the quiet, the even:
These shall not forget him.
The dancer edging the surf on the sand, the girl by the ocean
the dancer beside her;—
The watcher of blood-red stars of Antares, Aldebaran, searching
the depthless window of heaven;—
The lover of wintry moonstone; of vultures, Sierra—upcircling;
of crucified men for truth; —the lover of lovers and love unending,
The cool, the quiet, the even:
These shall not forget him.
For he was among them, and of them:
A friend of the misty evenings,
A faun, a half-god shaded in redwood temples;
For he was a lover of beauty dancing sea-skimming, surf-showered,
A watcher at gates swung wide on eternal sunset,
A sad-eyed lover of truth, the star-enshrouded and hidden,
The cool, the quiet, the even.
Overland Monthly and Out West Magazine, Nov 1927, Volume LXXXV, Number 11, pg. 339.