The hollow screech of riveters is heard All afternoon above the sullen roar Of city streets, where derricks dip and soar High in the blazing blue, by far winds stirred. Swiftly the bleak walls climb, and swift they gird The crowded way with shadow; soon once more A dream will leap up from the city's floor And sing to heaven, a new and shining word. What if these gleaming pinnacles are flung On high by pagan hands? They point the way The faithful heart must follow on its quest; These throbbing, steel-wrought symphonies are sung To weave a theme of everlasting day In far blue realms of loveliness and rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WE HAVE GONE THROUGH GREAT ROOMS TOGETHER by CARL SANDBURG ON A PROPOSED TRIP SOUTH by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING by ROBERT FROST HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 5 by EZRA POUND AGAMEMNON: HELEN. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS ON HOMER'S BIRTHPLACE by ANTIPATER OF SIDON BIRD CONVERSATIONS, SELECTION by FARID OD-DIN MOHAMMAD EBN EBRAHIM ATTAR |