Your ashes lie high on your sacred Sonoma Hills ... Your spirit is at rest. Rest? Every gem-blue wave that flows through the Golden Gate; Every storm-born billow that rolls to the Orient; Every snow-choked trail that ends at a cabin door Resurrects that insurgent spirit which no grave can hold While youth is still on earth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG: WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A' by JOANNA BAILLIE MILES KEOGH'S HORSE by JOHN MILTON HAY SONNET TO MASTER GABRIELL HARVEY, DOCTOR OF LAWES by EDMUND SPENSER A SONNET by JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN VILLANELLE OF CITY AND COUNTRY by ZOE AKINS A SONNET. OF LOVE by PHILIP AYRES MORTAL JEALOUSY by PHILIP AYRES HUMANE REVENGE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT A MORNING PIECE; WRITTEN IN ABSENCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |