Allow the sun to gild their greys.
The paving-stones, with earth between,
Are fringed with shoots of emerald green,
And oh! the song the thrushes sing
In Georgetown, when the year’s at spring!
ON THE POTOMAC RIVER,
U.S.A.
At close of June’s most burning day,
We took a ship and sailed away:
In mid-Potomac stream sailed we,
To Old Point Comfort by the sea.