. My Sacramento . aming all the prairie lands;Resurrect the virgin gloriesOf the Wild Wests broad expanseWith its Pioneers as famousAs the Knights of spear and lance. I I 3 __ __ S 63 —.—..I 1 Let it shine out on the future, 1 Lighting that which is to be, i Through that wall that goes before us, Through which we so dimly see. On a city crowding outward. Oer the river towards the sea, i • • s Oer the river towards the mountains, ! Ever far and wide and free. j I In the farther shade appearing I Many cornerstones are laid, ( Walls of high, imposing buildings, I Steel and stone artistic made.
. My Sacramento . aming all the prairie lands;Resurrect the virgin gloriesOf the Wild Wests broad expanseWith its Pioneers as famousAs the Knights of spear and lance. I I 3 __ __ S 63 —.—..I 1 Let it shine out on the future, 1 Lighting that which is to be, i Through that wall that goes before us, Through which we so dimly see. On a city crowding outward. Oer the river towards the sea, i • • s Oer the river towards the mountains, ! Ever far and wide and free. j I In the farther shade appearing I Many cornerstones are laid, ( Walls of high, imposing buildings, I Steel and stone artistic made. 1 More or less in all our doings 1 Build we castles in the air, 1 Forming on some dream the fiction ! Of a super-structure fair: i 1 I Rearing up a form to worship, I Though it vanish with the dawn, j Though we chance to play the loser, j When the lottery is drawn. I Yet Truth trails the heels of Fiction, I And the Boots of Fairy Dream, I Seven leagued and never tiring, I Magic draw from gas and steam. 64. High oer Sutters Fort and plazasLet your light shine out to all ^,—„—„—..—..—.,—,—,_.—.._„._„ „,—.„,„—._„—,._.—..—,„_^ i i I ! i And from lightnings of the storm cloud, That in Franklins bondage run, And from light waves, spectrum shattered, Telling of the farther sun. From the click of Morses magnets. And from long waves lightning hurled In the wireless of Marconi Wading out across the world. Pegasus, winged steed of Perseus,Rising from Medusas bloodIn mythology foreshadowedFlying planes, oer field and that steam the oceans vastnessStill with Fultons fires burn,Submarines that hide beneath itHarken back to dreams of Verne. May not dreams be premonitions ?Thunder heads before the storm?Sometimes faint, uncertain approaching morn?Embryo and untried fledgelingsOften of some enterprise?Echoes of our deeds and purpose ?Straws that point the winds that rise? 67 ♦ • And our futures dream
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookidmysacramento, bookyear1922
