Classic and Contemporary Poetry
AT TRINITY, by ANDREW EDWARD WATROUS First Line: Where wall street's head from full broadway Last Line: Where peace sole reigneth. Subject(s): Churchyards; Death; New York City; Trinity Churchyard (new York); Dead, The; Manhattan; New York, New York; The Big Apple | ||||||||
Where Wall Street's head from full Broadway Takes portions of the surge and spray, By silent night, and roaring day, Its graves it guardeth. The jetsam of the swollen stream, Profounder far their peace doth seem, For tossing drift that from their dream, The still close wardeth. In days when Bleecker Street was rus, And Murray Hill as is to us Champlain, Au Sable; when this fuss And fret were quiet; When ladies yet might think it queer To date in 18; when all here, In brief, was up-townin the year, Say '08,I spy it. Perchance, in there among the pews, Turned down his Sunday buckled shoes, Knight Lawrenceere that latest cruise The stainless sinner! Trite wonder, where his tomb doth stand. Had he a thought? The rector's hand He pressed, most like. Just back to land, And drove to dinner. Yet, haply, here from me a span, Some stopped to chat of the new man In Portugal, and his great plan For Boney brewing. How Burr'd turned up again, some said, Young Irving made abroad great head, And how of Gallic power the spread We'd all be ruing. Splash, splash! the midnight's fresh laid dust The swift aids churn the mudneeds must, The troops, from off Long Island thrust, Are marching nor'ward. Lord Sterling's taken, and his men All slainthe field was but a pen Of slaughter: we're the King's again From this time forward. It buffets back the lines-men's drum, Steel-fringed the scarlet ribbons come, Strong silence through the sullen hum St. George back bringing. Even the gliding of their files, In step that tells upon the miles, They wheelcling, clang, upon the aisles Their muskets ringing. Strain pipe and bellows! Belfry sway! Roar street and slip! We greet to-day Primmest of patres patriæ, Great George!it endeth. Scant gleaner I amid the dead; The reaper closely harvested; A gesture here, a word there said, Are all he lendeth. What point or purpose had their fate? They lived, and unlived; like a slate Their old place isour names the late Their places borrow. Rubbed out, writ in; it seemeth strange To me, and plain to youwe'll change; The old thought and the new will range This time to-morrow. And, silent ones, if what one saith, You hear, and comforts life in death As death in life, you'll wish for breath To make me know it. For, somehow, when first seen the place, It seemed to nourish more the grace Of kinship than did all the space Above, below it. Come on, friendhere we may not lie; Our place is taken, yet may I, And you, find some day time to die A rest remaineth. Some spot is oursa quiet nook, Where shade and shine make pipe and book To idlers pleasant: thither look, Where peace sole reigneth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...READY FOR THE CANNERY by BERTON BRALEY TRANTER IN AMERICA by AUGUST KLEINZAHLER MEETING YOU AT THE PIERS by KENNETH KOCH FEBRUARY EVENING IN NEW YORK by DENISE LEVERTOV ON 52ND STREET by PHILIP LEVINE THREE POEMS FOR NEW YORK by JOSEPHINE MILES NEW YORK SUBWAY by HILDA MORLEY AT HALF-PAST FIVE; A FEBRUARY FANCY by ANDREW EDWARD WATROUS |
|