Across the salt-cool, restless river way Manhattan stands up ragged on the sky, Each crag-like tower lined majestically Against the kindling east, each building grey The canoned cross streets where the night lamps die Are sun-pierced gorges to eternity; And high above the cloudy smoke plumes play. Ah, fretful man, the beauty is not thine! Thy stubborn will upflingest steel and stone, But mightier Nature claims once more her own; She yields to thee her quarry and her mine -- With thy small mounds to mimic mountain heights, To clothe thy bareness in her morning lights! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WYNKEN, BLYNKEN AND NOD by EUGENE FIELD GETTYSBURG [JULY 1-3, 1863] by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE THE DAISY; WRITTEN AT EDINBURGH by ALFRED TENNYSON MIRACLE by LIBERTY HYDE BAILEY SONG OF THE SUPERMAN by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE BURGHERS OF CALAIS by EMILY A. BRADDOCK AFTER SOUFRIERE by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY NOVEMBER by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO LORD ZOUCH by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |