search   index   by subject   by year   biographies   books  SF Activities  shop museum   contact

A Kearny Street Idyl
A "Steal" from Tennyson


The afternoon was waning fast,

As thronging Kearny street there passed,

Fair maids, brides, widows closely massed,

A shining stream of



On bonnet, hats, above, beneath,

Flashing like falchion from their sheath,

On mantle, dress, in flowers or wreath,

There’s nothing worn but



From happy homes and firesides bright,

From hotels glittering with light,

The crowd had come.  Ah, what a sight

Of scintillating



“Try not to pass,” an old man cried,

As two among them vainly tried

To get from buttons fringe untied,

Thus scattering beads of



“Oh stay!” the maid said, “let me rest

My mantle thus, upon thy breast.

I’ll disentangle from thy vest

Buttons my fringe of



A leer stood in the youth’s bad eye

As her he answered, “Do not try

To break the link thus formed by

This brilliant chain of



Beware, O maid, the soft reply—

Beware the glance of wicked eye,

The honeyed words, the smothered sigh—

They’re none as true as




A traveler he, from Boston bound,

And as among the crowd he wound

His way, he thought at last I’ve found

A maid I’d like to



There in the twilight cold and gray,

A “mash” was made.  O happy day

That joined them, though in simple way,

By chain of glittering


San Francisco News Letter and California Advertiser
June 11, 1881