...ds boast, But ours of man and woman. The miner in his cabin hears The ripple we are hearing; It whispers soft to homesick ears Around the settler's clearing: In Sacramento's vales of corn, Or Santee 's bloom of cotton, Our river by its valley-born Was never yet forgotten. The drum rolls loud, the bugle fills The summer air with clangor; The war-storm shakes the solid hills Beneath its tre...