Nested among her hills she lies, —
The city of our love!
Within her pleasant homes arise;
And healthful airs and happy skies
Float peacefully above.

A sturdy few, 'mid hopes and fears,
Her fair foundations set:
And looking backward now, through years
Of steady gain, how small appears
Her old estate! and yet,

She dons no autocratic airs,
In scorn of humbler days,
But shapes her fortunes and affairs,
To match the civic wreath she wears
And justify her bays.

Honor and truth her old renown:
Conservative of both,
The virtues of the little town
She holds in legacy, to crown
The city's larger growth.

Nor ease nor sloth her strength despoil:
Her peaceful farmers till,
With patient thrift, th' outlying soil,
Her trained mechanics deftly toil,
Her merchants ply their skill;

Her ponderous engineries supply
A thousand waiting needs;
Her wheels revolve, her shuttles fly, —
And ever where the prize hangs high,
Her foot, unfaltering, leads.

Her sympathies are large and sweet:
And when, at freedom's call,
The war flags waved, the war drums beat,
She sprang, responsive, to her feet,
And freely offered all!

Alert in war, she emulates
The arts of peace, as well:
Religion, order, guard her gates;
Wealth, culture, thrift, like happy Fates,
Her destinies foretell.

So, through the round of years, she keeps,
Advancing on her past:
Her old-time vigor never sleeps, —
And even as she sows, she reaps;
God bless her to the last!