Of the North End of Boston—long ago.
LAYS OF THE LAND
THE RISE AND FALL OF GLORYVILLE
Where the rockiest Rocky Mountains interview the scornful skies,
And the sager kinds of sage-bush in the middle distance rise,
There the cultured eye descending from the dreamlike azure hill,
Lights in an æsthetic foreground on the town of Gloryville.
It was in the Middle Ages—’bout the end of Sixty-eight,