California
By Lydia Huntley Sigourney
Land of gold!–thy sisters greet thee,
O’er the mountain and the main;
See–they stretch the hand to meet thee,
Youngest of our household train.
Many a form their love hath fostered
Lingers ‘neath thy sunny sky,
And their spirit-tokens brighten
Every link of sympathy.
We mid storms of war were cradled
Mid the shock of angry foes;
Thou, with sudden, dreamlike splendor,
Pallas-born–in vigor rose.
Children of one common country,
Strong in friendship let us stand,
With united ardor earning
Glory for our Mother land.
They of gold and they of iron,
They who reap the bearded wheat,
They who rear the snowy cotton,
Pour their treasures at her feet;
While with smiling exultation,
She, who marks their filial part,
Like the mother of the Gracchi,
Folds her jewels to her heart.