Classic Poem

City I love — and hate! — how can I sing
The miracle of your might in such a mood?
How can I still the anger in my heart,
To tell of your great beauty? How dispel
The anguish I have known at your strong hands,
To whisper of your wonder? O City, how
Can I forget your loveliness, to sing
Ev'n for one hour your terror and despair?
Lo! I am of your children, and all day
Behind your granite walls, hemmed in by stone,
I struggle with my brothers, till my heart
Grows sick with sighing. Like some stricken bird,
Long since I beat upon my bars, and sought
Blessed release; but now — I only wait,
And dream, and hunger; and I sometimes think
If one should come to set my spirit free,
Would I go gladly?

Nay, the chains are strong
That bind me to these paves; but stronger yet
The spiritual thraldom that I know —
The madness in the blood and in the brain
That comes and grows and flourishes, until
It is a very portion of ourselves,
And teaches us to lose our youthful dream
Of God's wide gardens and His quiet woods;
And tells us to forget the ancient truths,
The little paths which sundown used to paint
With all the gorgeous color of the world.
Lost peace! lost rapturous evenings! olden dawns!
When shall I feel again your healing kiss
Upon my tired eyes?
Not lost indeed
Is your fresh beauty — only vanished now,
While I am prisoner here a little while.
I heard a quiet voice
Call to my aching heart;
But I did not dare rejoice,
Lest swift it should depart,
And it said, " Though you are captive now in the loud pulsing mart,
" Forget not your young days,
The dream untarnished still,
The simple boyhood ways,
The music of the mill,
And O, the high, green hills of home, and the gold daffodil!
" Remember, in your stress,
The fragrant flower of youth,
The ancient loveliness,
The wise, substantial truth.
The City is a golden lie, a serpent's awful tooth! "