THE GOLDEN CITY.
I'll tell thee now a story, like a fairy tale of old,
Of a fair and fragile City, that was built for storing gold,
For like the work of fairy hands, it started into life,
And rapidly it flourished, until the very streets were rife
With luxuries of other climes, the sunny and the cold,
For well we know, earth's farthest spots can feel the power of gold.
Methinks I see the busy crowds press hurriedly along,—
There's but one ruling passion in all that eager throng,—
They come from many distant lands, to this enchanting shore,
To seek amongst its mountains a rich and glittering store.
They have heard of golden treasures on many a lofty height,
That oft the rushing waters of the torrents bring to light.
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