 | Morning Glories : |  |
THE CITY BY THE SEA.
Love thee? Yes, I'm sure I love thee,
Dear old city by the sea;
Love thy grandly towering spires,
Love thy matrons and thy sires;
Love thy gallant sons so true,
Love thy genial skies of blue;
Love thy gentle fair-haired daughters;
And the music of thy waters
Flowing gently all around thee.
All are ever dear to me!
Dear old city by the sea;
Love thy grandly towering spires,
Love thy matrons and thy sires;
Love thy gallant sons so true,
Love thy genial skies of blue;
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And the music of thy waters
Flowing gently all around thee.
All are ever dear to me!
Hark! I think I hear the echo
Of the notes of melody;
And the chimes ecstatic pealing
From St. Michael's o'er me stealing,
Woos me back to pleasant hours
Spent among the fragrant flowers;
And the ocean's distant roar
Burst in music on the shore—
And the snowy white-capped waves,
Every nook and cranny laves,
As they break in sportive glee
On the “battery” by the sea!
Of the notes of melody;
And the chimes ecstatic pealing
From St. Michael's o'er me stealing,
Woos me back to pleasant hours
Spent among the fragrant flowers;
And the ocean's distant roar
Burst in music on the shore—
And the snowy white-capped waves,
Every nook and cranny laves,
As they break in sportive glee
On the “battery” by the sea!
Of thy fame and vanished glory,
Dear old city by the sea—
All too well I know the story,
When thy deeds were dark and gory,
But the Inchcape bell's low moaning
Echoes not the sad slave's groaning,
As from Afric's torrid sands,
He was brought in iron bands,
Writhing in his agony,
To the city by the sea!
Dear old city by the sea—
All too well I know the story,
When thy deeds were dark and gory,
But the Inchcape bell's low moaning
Echoes not the sad slave's groaning,
As from Afric's torrid sands,
He was brought in iron bands,
Writhing in his agony,
To the city by the sea!
Through the evening's mellow haze,
Dear old city by the sea,
What a picture meets my gaze,
Relic of departed days!
Standing yet the wave-washed Fort,
From whose walls the loud report
Echoed all around the world—
(Now with stars and stripes unfurled)
Echoed like a bolt of thunder,
Burst the iron bands asunder,
Set the slave at liberty,
In the city by the sea!
Dear old city by the sea,
What a picture meets my gaze,
Relic of departed days!
Standing yet the wave-washed Fort,
From whose walls the loud report
Echoed all around the world—
(Now with stars and stripes unfurled)
Echoed like a bolt of thunder,
Burst the iron bands asunder,
Set the slave at liberty,
In the city by the sea!
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O'er thee broods the calm of peace,
Dear old city by the sea—
“Monitor,” and “Ironsides,”
At thy port no longer ride.
But I would forget the past,
Lest a shadow it should cast
O'er my musing sweet of thee,
Dear old city by the sea!
And I love thee, still I love thee,
Ever dear art thou to me!
Dear old city by the sea—
“Monitor,” and “Ironsides,”
At thy port no longer ride.
But I would forget the past,
Lest a shadow it should cast
O'er my musing sweet of thee,
Dear old city by the sea!
And I love thee, still I love thee,
Ever dear art thou to me!
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