SHAME on thee, O Manhattan, whom I love! And shame on me that I have slept away So many years while thy feet went astray! O Thou- that should'st be white as any dove, Thou Scarlet Woman! Is there no voice to move -- No hand to smite us? Even for this I pray -- Some terrible scourging that we have let the day Darken around us while we saw thee rove. Last night I heard thee cry. Thy wandering feet Went bleeding by me. On thy ruined breast I saw thee nurse a feeding child of flame! Desolate, gorgeous, frantic along the street! Ah, how I blushed in the dark that through my rest I felt the burning garments of thy shame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIRST SNOWFALL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL COMFORT by RUTH FITCH BARTLETT FOR A NOVEL OF HALL CAINE'S by ROBERT BRIDGES (1858-1941) ON HIS WIFE, AN EPITAPH by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) NATURAL MAGIC by ROBERT BROWNING |