POEMS OF PLACES ON THE PROSPECT OF PLANTING ARTS AND LEARNING IN AMERICA THE Muse, disgusted at an age and clime In distant lands now waits a better time, In happy climes, where from the genial sun In happy climes, the seat of Innocence, Where Nature guides and Virtue rules, There shall be sung another golden age, Not such as Europe breeds in her decay: Westward the course of empire takes its way; A fifth shall close the drama with the day; Time's noblest offspring is the last. George Berkeley [1685-1753] BERMUDAS WHERE the remote Bermudas ride "What should we do but sing His praise That led us through the watery maze Unto an isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own? Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks, Safe from the storms' and prelates' rage: Indian Names Thus sung they in the English boat And all the way, to guide their chime, 2473 Andrew Marvell [1621-1678] INDIAN NAMES YE say, they all have passed away, That their light canoes have vanished That, 'mid the forests where they roamed, But their name is on your waters,— 'Tis where Ontario's billow Like Ocean's surge is curled; The echo of the world; Where red Missouri bringeth Rich tribute from the West, And Rappahannock sweetly sleeps On green Virginia's breast. That clustered o'er the vale, Have fled away, like withered leaves But their memory liveth on your hills, Old Massachusetts wears it Amid his young renown; Connecticut hath wreathed it Wachuset hides its lingering voice Your mountains build their monument, Though ye destroy their dust. Lydia Huntly Sigourney [1791-1865] MANNAHATTA I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon lo! upsprang the aboriginal name. Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient, I see that the word of my city is that word from of old, Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays, superb, Rich, hemmed thick all around with sail-ships and steamships, an island sixteen miles long, solid-founded, Numberless crowded streets, high growths of iron, slender, strong, light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies, Tides swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown, The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining islands, the heights, the villas, The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the lighters, the ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers well-modelled, The down-town streets, the jobbers' houses of business, the houses of business of the ship-merchants and moneybrokers, the river-streets, Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a week, The carts hauling goods, the manly race of drivers of horses, the brown-faced sailors, The Song of the Colorado 2475 The summer air, the bright sun shining, and the sailing clouds aloft, The winter snows, the sleigh-bells, the broken ice in the river, passing along up or down with the flood-tide or ebb-tide, The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-formed, beautiful-faced, looking you straight in the eyes, Trottoirs thronged, vehicles, Broadway, the women, the shops and shows, A million people-manners free and superb-open voiceshospitality-the most courageous and friendly young men, City of hurried and sparkling waters! city of spires and masts! City nested in bays! my city! Walt Whitman [1819-1892] THE SONG OF THE COLORADO FROM the heart of the mighty mountains strong-souled for my fate I came, My far-drawn track to a nameless sea through a land with out a name; And the earth rose up to hold me, to bid me linger and stay; And the brawn and bone of my mother's race were set to bar my way. Yet I stayed not, I could not linger; my soul was tense to the call The wet winds sing when the long waves leap and beat on the far sea wall. I stayed not, I could not linger; patient, resistless, alone, How narrow that first dim pathway-yet deepening hour by hour! Years, ages, eons, spent and forgot, while I gathered me might and power Till To answer the call that led me, to carve my road to the sea, my flood swept out with that greater tide as tireless and tameless and free. |