‘ TWAS dull and gray, the marsh that lay...

‘ TWAS dull and gray, the marsh that lay

Out-stretched afar — a dreary waste

Of tide lands low, where ebb and flow

The waters, that with reckless haste

Have crept inland, and silent stand

In reedy pools, or tiny lakes.

There skimming low, now swift, now slow,

The sea-bird pauses oft and takes

A plunge among the luckless throng

That here have found a quiet home;

Or rising there, in lofty air,

A snowy speck in sunlight shone.

But just beyond, the marsh's bound

A city‘ mongst fair groves we traced

Here factory tall, and cottage small

Each to the picture lent its grace

Enchanting view! Thy charms they woo

To Alameda's fair retreat

And bid us wait within her gate

Her hidden glories there to greet.