O CITY of a thousand towers -- And every tower a city! Seen from far, When homesick travelers tread the lagging ship, And find their thought enstatued in high bronze, How beautiful thou art, how strong, how dear! Half-veiled by April's morning mist, thou art A dream of Orient fancy, mirrored white On hospitable waters. From thy roofs, Like bannered army, flies the cloudy breath Of onward-pressing Commerce. In the hush Of brown November evenings, thou dost flower, Before the sky, in constellated light. New power has brought thee beauty new and rare. Sated with Europe, our still hungry eyes Covet our own. And as we look with pride On rock-set walls we say: So deep, so high Be Freedom's structure, buttressed by the law. Here shall the Old World's poor, the Old World's waif, Retreating from their fate, forever find In thee the refuge of an open door -- A fortress, such as fearful races built In the dim ages on securest hills. Oh, shall this vision be but naught? -- this torch Extinguished? -- this world-hope be quenched? Is this piled marble meant for Manhood's tomb? Is there no Soul within these iron ribs? Is there no music but the clink of coin? Is blood on every lintel? Do all doors Fall open only to a golden key? Shalt thou go down with Babylon and Tyre To fellow and grovel and batten with the beast? No! rise from sleep the giant that thou art, And break the bonds of long, complacent years. Think on the Past: its heroes died for thee; Think on the Future, lest it spurn thy clay. Follow the vision, listen to the voice Beckoning from heights trod only by the brave: "Man is as mighty as his noblest dream." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EPITAPH by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE SEA GYPSY [OR GIPSY] by RICHARD HOVEY THE IRISH PEASANT TO HIS MISTRESS by THOMAS MOORE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 25 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE THREE MUSICIANS by AUBREY BEARDSLEY BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 2. THE THIRD SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) EVENTIDE by VALERY YAKOVLEVICH BRYUSOV |