To look upon, of great domestic merit
Which from a noble race she did inherit.

Puffed up with vanity and pride,
The Persian flashing like a gem,
Displayed her brilliants, glittering wide;
The Grecian coldly looked at them:
"Have you no jewelry at all, to wear?
Your dress and person look so poor and bare."

She called her children to her side,
Seven stalwart sons of martial mien;
"These are my jewels," she replied,
"I'm richer far than you, I ween:
These are the glory and the strength of Greece,
Which all the gems on earth would not increase,"

Let others shine in diamonds bright,
Or hoard their greenbacks, bonds or gold,
You have your jewels in your sight,
And hearing, like the matron old;
And should they still continue to increase,
You'll beat the model mother of old Greece.

Then hail Columbia, happy land!
While California yields her ore,
May you increase your jewel band,
By adding every year one more;
And when you're asked your jewels to display.
Point to your score of sons saying "these are they."