When I come down to sleep death's endless night, The threshold of the unknown dark to cross, What to me then will be the keenest loss, When this bright world blurs on my fading sight? Will it be that no more I shall see the trees Or smell the flowers or hear the singing birds Or watch the flashing streams or patient herds? No, I am sure it will be none of these. But, ah! Manhattan's sights and sounds, her smells, Her crowds, her throbbing force, the thrill that comes From being of her a part, her subtle spells, Her shining towers, her avenues, her slums- O God! the stark, unutterable pity, To be dead, and never again behold my city! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES by ROBERT HERRICK SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT [1583] by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 4. AL-MALIK by EDWIN ARNOLD SATIRE: 2 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS |