THE singer in a little boat,
Whose snowy sail gleamed in the sun,
Paused there, until the last fond note
Was sung, then swiftly sped away,
Like some sweet bird whose plaintive cry
Ere pity wakes, hath soared on high.
Our eyes then sought, thro’ changing light,
A distant mount's majestic form,
‘ Twas Tamalpais, whose lofty height,
Doth rise above the fog and storm;
While, neath its brow fair valleys bloom,
Untouched by frost or winter's gloom.