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City Poems

Table of Contents

  1. In the Crowd by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
  2. Night in a Down-town Street by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
  3. Portland by Elijah Kellogg

  1. In the Crowd

    by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

    I walk the city square with thee.
    The night is loud; the pavements roar.
    Their eddying mirth and misery
    Encircle thee and me.

    The street is full of lights and cries.
    The crowd but brings thee close to me.
    I only hear thy low replies;
    I only see thine eyes.

  2. Night in a Down-town Street

    by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

    Not in the eyed, expectant gloom,
    Where soaring peaks repose
    And incommunicable space
    Companions with the snows;

    Not in the glimmering dusk that crawls
    Upon the clouded sea,
    Where bourneless wave on bourneless wave
    Complains continually;

    Not in the palpable dark of woods
    Where groping hands clutch fear,
    Does Night her deeps of solitude
    Reveal unveiled as here.

    The street is a grim canon carved
    In the eternal stone,
    That knows no more the rushing stream
    It anciently has known.

    The emptying tide of life has drained
    The iron channel dry.
    Strange winds from the forgotten day
    Draw down, and dream, and sigh.

    The narrow heaven, the desolate moon
    Made wan with endless years,
    Seem less immeasurably remote
    Than laughter, love, or tears.

  3. Portland

    by Elijah Kellogg

    Still may I love, beloved of thee,
    My own fair city of the sea!
    Where moulders back to kindred dust
    The mother who my childhood nurst,
    And strove, with ill-requited toil,
    To till a rough, ungrateful soil;
    Yet kindly spired by Heaven to know
    That Faith's reward is sure, though slow,
    And see the prophet's mantle grace
    The rudest scion of her race.

    And while around thy seaward shore
    The Atlantic doth its surges pour,
    (Those verdant isles, thy bosom-gems,)
    May Temples be thy diadems;
    Spire after spire in beauty rise,
    Still pointing upward to the skies
    Unwritten sermons, and rebukes of love,
    To point thy toiling throngs to worlds above.