Richer than Carthage, craftier than Tyre, O slender city, bosomless and tall, O mightiest of cities, thou wilt fall Like all great towns that sank to dust and mire. Thou wilt not, like poor Troy, die by fire, Yet silence will slip round thee like a shawl And peace will grow about thee for a wall And crimson rust will be thy funeral pyre. Above the valley of Wall street rides the moon, Frosting the silver mansions to pale ghosts. It seems already ages since loud hosts, Impetuous traders, trafficked here this noon. And thus the lonely roofs of Karnak stand, Washed by white moonlight in an empty land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 15 by CONRAD AIKEN MARSHALL WASHER by HAYDEN CARRUTH DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 2. LOS CIGARILLOS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: BARRETT BAYS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LAST JUDGMENT by JOHN CROWE RANSOM DEDICATION OF THE FIRST SONNETS TO A FRIEND ... by GEORGE SANTAYANA |