NOT on Penobscot's wooded bank the spires Of the sought City rose, nor yet beside The winding Charles, nor where the daily tide Of Naumkeag's haven rises and retires, The vision tarried; but somewhere we knew The beautiful gates must open to our quest, Somewhere that marvellous City of the West Would lift its towers and palace domes in view, And, lo! at last its mystery is made known -- Its only dwellers maidens fair and young, Its Princess such as England's Laureate sung; And safe from capture, save by love alone, It lends its beauty to the lake's green shore, And Norumbega is a myth no more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: COLUMBUS CHENEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE COAT OF FIRE by EDITH SITWELL MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 2 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI EURIPIDES by ALEXANDER AETOLUS THE ROSE I GREW by JULIA S. ANDERSON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND by LEVI BISHOP THE WHITE WATCH (OPUS 28: NO. 3) by GORDON BOTTOMLEY SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 30 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |