What mean these ruins black and bare?
What ruthless ravage did betide,
That seized upon thy garnered wealth,
And spread destruction far and wide?
Long ages past thy waters blue
Have laved the peerless Golden Gate;
Where mighty guns in silence stand,
To ward thee from the blows of Fate.
Ah, San Francisco, fair and gay,
Proud city by the pulsing sea!
Now ashes strew thy market-place,
Where Death's fierce hand hath smitten thee!
What ruthless ravage did betide,
That seized upon thy garnered wealth,
And spread destruction far and wide?
Long ages past thy waters blue
Have laved the peerless Golden Gate;
Where mighty guns in silence stand,
To ward thee from the blows of Fate.
Ah, San Francisco, fair and gay,
Proud city by the pulsing sea!
Now ashes strew thy market-place,
Where Death's fierce hand hath smitten thee!
* Nob's Hill, a famous residential district, destroyed in the great fire.
Amid Inspiring Scenes
(Near Greenwich, N. Y.)
Prologue
By H. P. L.
I.
The western sun, whose warm, rubescent rays
Touch the green slope with soul-awak'ning blaze,
A thoughtful bard reveals, whose polish'd flights
Spring from the scene on Dillon's pleasant heights.
An ancient boulder is the poet's seat,
A verdant vista fronts the blest retreat;
From distant banks there comes th' elusive gleam
That speaks the Hudson's silent, stately stream.
Here, ere the birth of man, a granite train
In speechless splendor rul'd the rising main;
In later days an Indian horde decreed
The varying fortunes of the fragrant mead.
Here Dutchmen trod, till Albion's stronger sway
Carv'd out the nation that we know to-day;
'Twas here th' insurgent swain his King defied,
And rural rebels broke Burgoyne's bold pride.
Such is the scene, with shades historic rife,
That Hoag, in numbers, gives eternal life.
Touch the green slope with soul-awak'ning blaze,
A thoughtful bard reveals, whose polish'd flights
Spring from the scene on Dillon's pleasant heights.
An ancient boulder is the poet's seat,
A verdant vista fronts the blest retreat;
From distant banks there comes th' elusive gleam
That speaks the Hudson's silent, stately stream.
Here, ere the birth of man, a granite train
In speechless splendor rul'd the rising main;
In later days an Indian horde decreed
The varying fortunes of the fragrant mead.
Here Dutchmen trod, till Albion's stronger sway
Carv'd out the nation that we know to-day;
'Twas here th' insurgent swain his King defied,
And rural rebels broke Burgoyne's bold pride.
Such is the scene, with shades historic rife,
That Hoag, in numbers, gives eternal life.
Glacial Boulders
II.
"Tell, ancient giants, granite boulders gray,
Ye mute survivors of a distant day,
Whence came ye here, and why? Pray let me know
Your age-kept mysteries of long ago.
Relate at last the story yet untold;
Your tale I'll honor, and your secret hold!"
Thus plead the sage, and as the boulders heard,,
Their hoary patriarch spake the answering word,
"Our rugged paths o'er distant hillsides trace;
Ye mute survivors of a distant day,
Whence came ye here, and why? Pray let me know
Your age-kept mysteries of long ago.
Relate at last the story yet untold;
Your tale I'll honor, and your secret hold!"
Thus plead the sage, and as the boulders heard,,
Their hoary patriarch spake the answering word,
"Our rugged paths o'er distant hillsides trace;
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