THE NEWPORT TOWER.
Dark, lonely Tower, amid yon Eden-isle,
Which, as a gem, fair Narragansett wears
Upon her heaving breast, thou lift'st thy head,
A mystery and paradox, to mock
The curious throng.
Say, reared the plundering hand
Of the fierce buccaneer thy massy walls,
A treasure-fortress for his blood-stained gold?
Or wrought the beings of an earlier race
To form thy circle, while in wonder gazed
The painted Indian?
Fancy spreads her wing
Around thy time-scathed brow, and deeply tints
Her fairy-scroll, while hoar Antiquity
In silence frowns upon the aimless flight.
Thou wilt not show the secret of thy birth!
Nor do I know why we need question thee
So strictly on that point; save that the creed
Of Yankee people is, that through the toil
Of questioning, there cometh light, and gain
Of knowledge to the mind.
We see thou art
