Sacramento, the River, Cal. RIO SACRAMENTO. ACRAMENTO! Sacramento, Down the rough Nevada foaming, Sacramento! Sacramento! From the shining threads that wove thee, From the mountain woods that darken All the mountain heaven above thee, Teach her ear thy song to hearken, And, for what it says, to love thee! Sacramento! Sacramento! Lead me downward to the glory Sacramento! Sacramento! Every dancing rainbow broken When thy falling waves are shattered, Is a glad and beckoning token ST. GEORGE AND ST. PAUL, THE ISLANDS. 185 Of the hopes so warmly scattered Sacramento! Sacramento! She, beside thee, waits my coming; Bayard Taylor. St. George and St. Paul, the Islands. Alaska. CHRISTMAS CHIMES IN DISTANT ISLES. A CHIME of nine bells, and another of six, cast in Boston, have been hung in the belfries of the little Greek churches on the isles of St. Paul and St. George, situated in the Behring Sea, not far from the straits, off Alaska. BRO ROAD paddles uplifting, the spray from the Behring Baptized all the bells under lee of the isle; Their Boston inscription glad Russians were spelling, As the vessel that bore them dipped colors the while. The Aretic sun setting, for happy leave-taking, With red hand anointed each slumbering tongue, Till, sweeter than song-birds at early morn waking, The first chime of bells in that distant clime rung! And lo! the sea-eagle, broad pinions just poising, O'er Yukan's calm waters their light baider guiding, Their oars drip apeak, and they wait for strange vision; Aurora her magical banners unrolls; As statue sits helmsman, while borne from far mission, The silvery music enraptures all souls! And leader of dog-sledge, his furry ears raising, His hood of rich sable the voyageur loosens; Like sword-hilt that slippeth from paralyzed hand, The lash leaves his grasp, while he eagerly listens, His keen glances roving o'er sea and o'er land. E'en St. Michael's sentry, the melody hearing, A New England homestead before him is dawning; He sees the red cottage in flowery dell; The group at the doorway one still summer morning, And dear mother waving her sailor farewell! His pent-up emotion no longer restraining, The musket clangs earthward, and cheer upon cheer With white wine and biscuit the fishermen hardy Said priest, draining goblet with rapturous smile. Ring on, thou sweet Angelus! the old story telling! George Bancroft Griffith. A St. Louis, Mo. UP THE RIVER-SIDE. SABBATH hush pervades the summer day, I gaze on once again the arid lands, That weed-besprinkled westward stretch away; The waves that wash the beach about me lay Smooth mirrors in their track, and vast expands The stream's majestic breast, to where up-stands Fair Venice in her groves beside her bay. I lie and listen to the beat of wave And boom of wind, and watch the river-gleams; And as within their waters deep I lave, The scene before me fades and floats away in dreams. Frank Foy. ST. LOUIS. NCE more I give an idle song to thee, ONCE Fair city sitting by the waters wide. Forever with thy people shall abide Honor and peace, in every home shall be And they, those mighty men, who at thy side O thou that art to rule the empired west, - Be strong, and labor, labor for the gold Frank Foy. |