A Stir in the Air (Zion)

But lo, a stir is in the air! The wave--there is a movement there! As if the towers had thrust aside, In slightly sinking, the dull tide-- As if their tops had feebly given A void within the filmy Heaven. The waves have now a redder glow-- The hours are breathing faint and low-- And when, amid no earthly moans, Down, down that town shall settle hence, Hell, rising from a thousand thrones, Shall do it reverence. -Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), The City in the Sea

Weight of the Hour (Point Reyes)

A pard-like Spirit beautiful and swift--         A love in desolation masked--a power     Girt round with weakness; it can scarce uplift         The weight of the superincumbent hour.         It is a dying lamp, a falling shower,     A breaking billow;--even whilst we speak         Is it not broken? On the withering flower     The killing sun smiles brightly: on a cheek The life can burn in blood even while the heart may break. -Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), Adonais

Stormy Mist (South Carolina Shore)

So saddened round her like an atmosphere     Of stormy mist; so swept her on her way, Even to the mournful place where Adonais lay. -Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), Adonais

Leisure (South Carolina Shore)

What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass. No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars like skies at night. No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance. No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began. A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. -William Henry Davies (1871-1940), Leisure

Moon-lit Sparks (Honolulu)

A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet; -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), Paul Revere's Ride

Fire and Steel (New York)

Out of her secret paradise she sped,     Through camps and cities rough with stone and steel -Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), Adonais