"Swathing the shores where only
The sea-birds come and pass,
And drifts with the drifting waters,
By desolate Alcatraz;
"We hear, when night droops downward,
And the bay throbs under the stars,
The ocean voices blending
With ripple of soft guitars;
"With chiming bells of the Mission,
With passionate minors sung,
Or a quaint Castilian ballad
Trilled in the Spanish tongue.
"Fair from thy hills, O city,
Look on the beautiful bay!
Prouder far is the vision
Greeting our eyes to-day;
’Better the thronged waters,
And the busy streets astir,
Purple and silken raiment,
Balsam and balm and myrrh;
"Gems of the farther Indies,
Gold of thine own rich mine,
And the pride and boast of the peoples,
O beautiful queen, are thine!
"Praise to the goodly Fathers,
With banners of faith unfurled!
Praise to the sturdy heroes
Who have won thee to the world!"
Descending from these heights, the road—the San Bruno turnpike—winds in and out for miles along the bluff shores of the Bay of San Francisco, and the views, changing at every turn, are wonderfully diversified and beautiful. At one point we saw a land-locked basin, in which a dozen Italian fishermen's boats lay rocking idly, and at another we
