 | Songs at the Start |  |
48
BOSTON, FROM THE BRIDGE.
This night my heart's world-roaming dreams are met,The while I gaze across the river-brim,
Beyond the anchored ships with cordage dim,
To the clear lights, that like a coronet
On thee, my noble city, nobly set,
Along thy summits trail their golden rim.
Peril forsake thee! so shall peal my hymn;
Glory betide thee! Nor may men forget,
Shelter of scholars, poets, artisans!
The sap that filled the perfect vein of Greece,
And hung with bloom her fair, illustrious tree,
Unheeded, thro' dull eras made advance,
Unfruitful, stole to topmost boughs in peace
Twice centuries twelve; and flowered again in thee.
| Songs at the Start | |