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.”