All silent.... So, he lies in state....
Our redwoods drip and drip with rain....
Against our rock-locked Golden Gate
We hear the great, sad, sobbing main.
But silent all.... He passed the stars
That year the whole world turned to Mars.
The great poet, Alfred Lord Tennyson died in 1892.
There are a number of poems about the Golden Gate on Poetry Atlas, and there are many poems abouc California.
The Golden Gate, San Francisco, California
image in the public domain