 | Landmarks and other poems |  |
110
TO THE STATUE ON THE CAPITOL:
LOOKING EASTWARD AT DAWN.
What sunken splendor in the Eastern skies
Seest thou, O Watcher, from thy lifted place?—
Thine old Atlantic dream is in thine eyes,
But the new Western morning on thy face.
Seest thou, O Watcher, from thy lifted place?—
Thine old Atlantic dream is in thine eyes,
But the new Western morning on thy face.
Beholdest thou, in reäpparent light,
Thy lost Republics? They were visions, fled.
Their ghosts in ruin'd cities walk by night—
It is no resurrection of their dead.
Thy lost Republics? They were visions, fled.
Their ghosts in ruin'd cities walk by night—
It is no resurrection of their dead.
111
But look, behind thee, where in sunshine lie
Thy boundless fields of harvest in the West,
Whose savage garments from thy shoulders fly,
Whose eagle clings in sunrise to thy crest!
Thy boundless fields of harvest in the West,
Whose savage garments from thy shoulders fly,
Whose eagle clings in sunrise to thy crest!
Washington, D. C.
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