By Mrs. A.W. Curtis.
Thou sittest like a queen with coronal
Of dazzling beauty on thy sunny brow;
The glorious mountains for thy lofty throne,
The grand old Ocean lying at thy feet;
Thy jewels are the healing springs, that lie
Like gleaming pearls upon thy bounteous breast.
From far and near, earth's weary pilgrims come,—
A long procession, sad, and heavy-eyed,—
To win anew the priceless boon of health,