Poems (Van Rensselaer)/In Lower New York
IN LOWER NEW YORK
Stand here with me. The throngs dissolve away.
The sunset fades. A single star grows bright.
The moon as purely sheds her balm of light
Through these cliff-corridors as on the bay
Pure-spread beyond them. Sea-breeze murmurs say,
Not all of time is pledged for gain, the night
Means sleeping even here, and in despite
Of gold and greed will dawn a Sabbath-day.
The sunset fades. A single star grows bright.
The moon as purely sheds her balm of light
Through these cliff-corridors as on the bay
Pure-spread beyond them. Sea-breeze murmurs say,
Not all of time is pledged for gain, the night
Means sleeping even here, and in despite
Of gold and greed will dawn a Sabbath-day.
There is no peace like this, the deep repose
Of citadels of haggard restlessness.
Prairie and mountain-top and twilit snows
Breathe of the benison of silence less
Than these tired streets, dazed with the noise of men,
When the calm darkness bids them rest again.
Of citadels of haggard restlessness.
Prairie and mountain-top and twilit snows
Breathe of the benison of silence less
Than these tired streets, dazed with the noise of men,
When the calm darkness bids them rest again.