NEXT near a shore whose wooded hills...

NEXT near a shore whose wooded hills

Touched, far away, the eastern sky,

We paused to hear the gladsome trills

Of land birds’ songs as, fitting by,

They sought their mates among the trees,

And joined their notes with whispering breeze.

We listened then, with rapt delight —

This time a tale of classic lore

Our captain chose, with lofty flight;

And far from that low-curving shore

He took us, with that pleasing tale,

Through leafy woods, o'er hill and vale.

AT birth of this fair city,‘ mid

These ancient liveoak trees,

Athena, goddess fair,‘ tis said,

With her attendants came,

And brought to it a name.

“Thou'rt Oakland,” said the winsome queen;

“A city proud thou'lt be!

Thy beauteous lake, thy hills so green,

Thy slopes that rise and fall,

I crown, and bless them all.

While water pure, from mountain spring

Shall make thy gardens smile

And busy bees their sweets will bring

From these rich blossoming fields

That thine abundance yields.

Thy schools, thy colleges and halls

Far-famed shall be on earth;

The temples of Right within thy walls

Shall flourish; and fair Truth

Be prized by all thy youth.”