The San Francisco call., 1895-11-24
in MEMORIAM.
Jen Kirk, Poet, Drops a Tear in
Honor Of the Old Cliff
House.

touching, this poem, that it seems to be
worthy place in the archives of the City:
THE OLD CLIFF HOUSE.
Dear old house, thou hast fallen low,
heap Of dust and gray ashes light
Desolation has trailed her mantles Ger
Thy lofty perch and sunny height.
Thou art to-day but smoldering pile,
On thy cliff by the side Of the sea
A tangled mass Of pipes and bands
Red bricks few, and a heap OF debris.
It would be difficult to find a finer fight
of poesy than this. Mr.. Jen Kirk, the
author of this delightful production, was
almost inexcusably remiss. 1t is strange
that he should have delayed so long in
sending such poem to the press. Or is it
possible that this effusion has been sent to
other newspapers ana has by them been
declined with thanks"? Perish the
thought 1t is inconceivable that any edi-
tor could be SO unappreciative. The poem
continues:
For hours the fires had smoldered unseen,
But breath of air sent them all aglow,
Far out to sea went tongues OF flame,
Defying the surging waters below.
The seals on their rocky home took fright
AS smoke and cinders around them came
And quickly into the ocean plunged
To watch from below the sheets Of fame.
What wide, romantic view of the stu
alton is taken in these two stanzas, as
well as in the preceding one, where the
poet alludes to the tangled mass of pipes
and bands" doubtless making reference
to the gas fixtures and water mains that
were destroyed in the confagrationl What
tender pathos there is In the line
The seals on their rocky home took flight!
But let the singer sing on
The flag of country no longer waves
Over thy CAV and festive halls;
No more shall we hear the trampling feet
OF the crowds that gather within thy walls.
No smoothly chseled brownstone front,
No granite gray or massive walls;
No mapsard roof, with tiles Of slate,
No cold, forbiddng marble halls;
No stately pillars, or portals grand.
No frescoed ceilings, or tapestried wallis:
Yet kings and queens have deigned to stand
In thy plain and unpretentious halls!
Here speaks the patriot as well as the
poet. The "kings" and queens" men
in the great and majestic games OF draw
poker that were played in the historic old
building. Once more the poet smites his
tuneful Tyre:
Thou vert our quaint, od-fashioned house,
Built with timbers so strong and light
With Old-time wndOw-ShutterS green,
And rustic boards, all painted white.
What a picture is mere drawn by this
romantic author! Nothing finer of its
kind can be found in the whole range of
literature. But the old Cliff House was
first-Dight attraction as will be seen by
this continuation of th3 lyric:
But all who came through the Golden Gate,
And those who travelled the continent Ger,
The thing to do first was TO do the Cliff,
See the lions and hear them roar.
Far out below spreads the beautiful beach,
Where the breakers cur, DER the hard gray
Lenving ribbons of foam as they backward roll; ;
Ever held in check by our Fathers hand.
There is a Tennysonian ring to the sue
ceeding lines. At least there seems to be
an echo from that deathless fragment
Break, break, at the foot Of thy cliffs o Sea.
Here are our new poets words:
Towering above hangs Sutro Heights,
And at thy feet old ocean breaks.
While just outside runs the seas highway
For ships that pass through the Golden Gate
But the closing lines are of more than Or
dinary merit for this sort of poet. Hear
the poet pour forth his soul in rhythm:
Thy fame. old house, has journeyed far
Over continents broad and wide;
Also In every isle Of the sea
Thy travelled patrons now abide.
On thy sunny crag by the sea
palatial pile will bear thy name,
But to US who loved the dear old house
1t will never be quite the same.
Written January 49, 1895. JEN KIRK.
Here the spirit of the true poetis shown;
he is faithful to the old love, even though
the new be fairer; and in very truth he
speaks the sentiment of many old-timers
of San Francisco. They will never feel
quite natural In the architecturally beauti-
full and palatial edifce that is about COM
pleted. They will still yearn for the old
Cliff House, with its rickety stairways, its
timeworn and footworn floors, its smoke
marred verandah, its whitewashed walls
and its generally dilapidated appearance.
Mr.. Kirk has performed service for
which all San Franciscans and others
interested ought to be grateful.