I have dreamed of San Francisco all the way-
Francis d' Assisi! Seeking Monterey,
That hides itself among these strangenesses-
Leading now here, now there- to dizzy height
That challenges the very stars of night-
Then drops to jungled vale,
Or cannoned rocks-till fail
My men and beasts alike in utter stress,
Through weary miles and miles
And days of tears and smiles,
While still my sapphire of the ocean lies
Lost to my seeking eyes.

And, Pedro, it is surly strange that he,
Saint Francis, seems to be
Thus ever in my sight.
Nay, scarcely that, at night,
But vision only; and by day
A frail, slight form in gray,
That ever leads the way. . .
That ‘leads the way, ' nay, I myself have said;
Is it not his to lead still, having lead?

My patron saint, you know, because he knew
Such love for all things living. Never grew
On this old earth aught that bore not its part
In his great heart;
And in return
His every rose blossomed without a thorn,
And birds and branches sung,
And the dumb creatures found for him a tongue.

Dios! What strange new glory this that breaks
Upon the vision as the morning wakes,
And the thick mist rolls back
From camp and track?
What jeweled radiance singing to our feet
While sound and color meet?
And look! The Golden Door
Out to the Ocean floor! ...
Frances d' Assisi! This, aye this to thee,
This magic inner Sea!
O Bay of San Francisco, thou, his own-
Save God's alone!