Poems of America . rainy tempest, speaks of thee. And when the hours of restCome, like a calm upon the mid-sea brine. Hushing its billowy breast, — The quiet of that moment too is thine; | It breathes of Him who keeps I The vast and helpless city while it sleeps. i William Cullen Bryant. \ SPEING IN TOWN. THE country ever has a lagging Spring,Waiting for May to call its violets June its roses, — showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure oer the earth;To put their foliage out, the woods are slack,And one by one the singing-birds come back. Within the citys bounds the t
Poems of America . rainy tempest, speaks of thee. And when the hours of restCome, like a calm upon the mid-sea brine. Hushing its billowy breast, — The quiet of that moment too is thine; | It breathes of Him who keeps I The vast and helpless city while it sleeps. i William Cullen Bryant. \ SPEING IN TOWN. THE country ever has a lagging Spring,Waiting for May to call its violets June its roses, — showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure oer the earth;To put their foliage out, the woods are slack,And one by one the singing-birds come back. Within the citys bounds the time of flowersComes earlier. Let a mild and sunny day. Such as full often, for a few bright hours,Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May, Shine on our roofs and chase the wintry gloom — And lo! our borders glow with sudden bloom. For the wide sidewalks of Broadway are thenGorgeous as are a rivulets banks in June, That overhung with blossoms, through its glen,Slides soft away beneath the sunny NEW YORK, THE CITY. 139 And they who search tlie untrodden wood for flowersMeet in its depths no loveHer ones than ours. For here are eyes that shame the violet, Or the dark drop that on the pansy lies,And foreheads, white, as when in clusters set. The anemones by forest fountains rise;And the spring-beauty boasts no tenderer streakThan the soft red on many a youthful cheek. * * * Soft voices and light laughter wake the street. Like notes of woodbirds, and whereer the eyeThreads the long way, plumes wave, and twinkling feet Fall light, as hastes that crowd of beauty ostrich, hurrying oer the desert space,Scarce bore those tossing plumes with fleeter pace. No swimming Juno-gait, of languor theirs, but a light step of freest grace, Light as Camillas oer the unbent com, —A step that speaks the spirit of the place. Since Quiet, meek old dame, was driven away To Sing-Sing and the shores of Tappan bay.* * * William Calien Bryant. THE CITY OF SHIPS. CITY o
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, booksubjectamerica, bookyear1882
