The Beds of Fleur-De-Lys: Presidio, San Francisco

HIGH-LYING sea-blown stretches of green turf,
Wind-bitten close, salt-colored by the sea,
Low curve on curve spread far to the cool sky,
And, curving over them as long they lie,
Beds of wild fleur-de-lys.

Wide-flowing, self-sown, stealing near and far,
Breaking the green like islands in the sea,
Great stretches at your feet, and spots that bend
Dwindling over the horizon’s end, —
Wilds beds of fleur-de-lys.

The light, keen wind streams on across the lifts,
Thin wind of western springtime by the sea ;
The warm Earth smiles unmoved, but over her
Is the far-flying rustle and sweet stir
In beds of fleur-de-lys.

And here and there across the smooth low grass
Tall maidens wander, thinking of the sea ;
And bend and bend, with light robes blown aside,
For the blue lily-flowers that bloom so wide, —
The beds of fleur-de-lys.