Santa Barbara Poem
A seven-stanza tribute poem to Santa Barbara. It depicts the city as a tranquil, picturesque place (‘Asleep at the mountains’ feet’) defined by its natural beauty, including rolling hills, the ocean, and fragrant flowers.
Details
- Level of description
- Item
- Date
- c.1940
- Reference
- 13
- Extent and medium
- 1 p.; printed
- Scope and content
- A seven-stanza tribute poem to Santa Barbara. It depicts the city as a tranquil, picturesque place (‘Asleep at the mountains’ feet’) defined by its natural beauty, including rolling hills, the ocean, and fragrant flowers.
- Repository
- Irish Capuchin Archives
- Context
- Irish Capuchin Archives > Papers of the Irish Capuchin Mission in the United States > Printed Fliers, Publicity Material and Newsletters
Annotations
Rights
- Rights
- Copyright held by the respective institution. Contact the archive for reproduction permissions.
Related Items
Extracted Mentions
People, places, and terms identified via handwriting recognition and named entity recognition.
Sample passages
- In wonderful robes of green and brown,
- Where the berry-brown children play;
- Ring soft on the siumbrous air.
Full Transcript (OCR, 1 pages)
Machine-generated OCR transcript. Handwritten material may contain recognition errors.
Page 1
A way in the west, where the sun goes down To his rest in the summer sea, At the mountains' feet sleeps a beautiful town. In wonderful robes of green and brown, That is like no other to me. There the roses drowsily nod and dip Their heads in the fragrant breeze, And through the trees can be seen a strip Of water blue, and white-eailed ship Afloat in the quiet seas. Tall mountains, wrapped in purple shade. Keep watch o'er that Valley fair, And at night when the moonbeams slant and fade The dulcet notes of a serenade Ring soft on the siumbrous air. Slow tides wash up on the sandy shore Where the berry-brown children play; And there, where the breakers dash and roar, And the amber seaweed drifts ashore All drenched in their silv'ry spray. I said farewell to the beautiful town A sleen at the mountains' feet, While the sound of the evening' bells came down From the old white Mission above the town, And the breath of the roses sweet. That memory haunts me where'er I go, And whate'er the years may bring, In fancy still thy sunsets slow, Thy warm tides sleepily sbb and slow, Thy Mission bells still ring. Thy delicate roses never fade, Santa Barbara by the sea, And always from under the peppers' shade, Float the dreamy notes of that serenade, In the visions that come to me.