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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BARTHOLDI'S PHAROS, by GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND Poet's Biography First Line: Manhattan bay in glory lay Last Line: And only art is glory! Subject(s): New York City - History; U.s. - Immigration And Emigration | |||
Manhattan Bay in glory lay When Verrazano entered; His heart was cold, on thoughts of gold And ivory concentred: "Now go about and sail we out!— Although this scene entrances; For we Italians seek rich mines To satisfy King Francis." The Portugee came in from sea, Sir Estevan de Gomez; "I smell," said he, "no spicery Nor gum, such as at home is; King Charles of Spain, he would raise Cain And cuss-words use terrific, If we clove not this granite main To cloves of the Pacific." The Half-Moon next our harbor vexed— The Dutchman made appearance— The Northwest Passage was his text, And Albany his clearance; The Indian damsels pleased his ways,— He was a gay deceiver,— And nothing met his sordid praise But buffalo and beaver. Next came Lord Howe, guns at his prow, His nose and clothes vermilion, With Hessian bayonets, to plough The hills around new Ilion; Seven years the fleet stayed here to eat,— King George he paid the ration,— Till French and Yankees down the street Saw an evacuation. The artisan American Came now—a buoyant schemer— With fleets of fire-winged birds to span The shores with many a steamer. At Fulton's wand our sparkling pond Leaped into life and duty, But nothing came to correspond Unto the sense of Beauty. The gold we made, the South-Sea trade, The peltries and the spices, And mechanisms, like crystal prisms, Refracted our devices. Yet in the heart the spell of Art Slept, like the winter throstle, Or Faith, in old Diana's mart, Awaiting an apostle. The son of France his kindling glance Threw o'er this radiant Edom, And like a Bayard of romance Knelt to the strength of Freedom; He saw arise athwart our skies A Goddess ever living, Illumination in her eyes, And flame to darkness giving. Lift high thy torch and forward march, O dame of Revolution!— All heaven thy triumphal arch, All progress the solution; And from the earth and all its dross May man behold the story— Friendship is pious as the cross, And only Art is glory! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DWARF WITH VIOLIN, GOVERNMENT CENTER STATION by STANLEY PLUMLY FARRAGUT NORTH by STANLEY PLUMLY ELLIS ISLAND by JAMES OPPENHEIM TO A FRENCH GIRL IN AMERICA by MABEL KINGSLEY RICHARDSON AT THE GATE by NATHAN FREDERICK SPIELVOGEL IN A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR by ANNE-ELISE ROANE WINTER TO AN IONIAN BOY by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY ARMY CORRESPONDENT'S LAST RIDE; FIVE FORKS, APRIL 1, 1865 by GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND BROOKLYN BRIDGE TOWERS (AS UNCONNECTED) by GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND |
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