‘ TWAS dull and gray, the marsh that lay...

'TWAS dull and gray, the marsh that lay Out-stretched afar—a dreary waste Of tide lands low, where ebb and flow The waters, that with reckless haste

Have crept inland, and silent stand In reedy pools, or tiny lakes. There skimming low, now swift, now slow, The sea-bird pauses oft and takes

A plunge among the luckless throng That here have found a quiet home; Or rising there, in lofty air, A snowy speck in sunlight shone.

But just beyond, the marsh's bound A city 'mongst fair groves we traced Here factory tall, and cottage small Each to the picture lent its grace

Enchanting view! Thy charms they woo To Alameda's fair retreat And bid us wait within her gate Her hidden glories there to greet.