Explore "Our San Francisco Climate" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Said I to my friend from the East,- / A tenderfoot he,- / As I showed him the greatest and least / Of our hills by the sea, / "How do you like our climate? " / And I smiled in my glee.
I showed him the blue of the hills, / And the blue of the sky, / And the blue of the beautiful bay / Where the ferry-boats ply; / And "How do you like our climate? " / Securely asked I.
Then the wind blew over the sand, / And the fog came down, / And the papers and dust were on hand / All over the town. / "How do you like our climate? " / I cried with a frown.
On the corner we stood as we met / Awaiting a car; / Beneath us a vent-hole was set, / As our street corners are- / And street corners in our San Francisco / Are perceptible far.
He meant to have answered, of course, / I could see that he tried; / But he had not the strength of a horse, / And before he replied / The climate rose up from that corner in force, / And he died!
SAN FRANCISCO, 1895.