At twilight, when the sun is low, I look upon a Babel bright Across a harbor that I know, At twilight. Bewildering splendor to the sight! There all the works, in sunset's glow, Of God and man, don robes of light. The jeweled spires skyward go. A diamond city, mountain height; Below, the rivers deep green flow At twilight. At twilight, fog upon the Bay; That Titian city, masked in night, Will vanish utterly away At twilight. Instead, the fog horn, wakeful wight, Will shriek its warning, there to stay The ocean greyhound in its plight. Oh, jeweled city, set in jet! Where all the world both come and go; That is a fog, should you forget! At twilight. |