The Dawn! The Dawn! The crimson-tinted, comes Out of the low still skies, over the hills, Manhattan's roofs and spires and cheerless domes! The Dawn! My spirit to its spirit thrills. Almost the mighty city is asleep, No pushing crowd, no tramping, tramping feet. But here and there a few cars groaning creep Along, above, and underneath the street, Bearing their strangely-ghostly burdens by, The women and the men of garish nights, Their eyes wine-weakened and their clothes awry, Grotesques beneath the strong electric lights. The shadows wane. The Dawn comes to New York. And I go darkly-rebel to my work. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLEASURE MIXED WITH PAIN by THOMAS WYATT THE DEPARTURE OF THE SWALLOW by WILLIAM HOWITT A FAREWELL TO LONDON IN THE YEAR 1715 by ALEXANDER POPE AN UNTIMELY THOUGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ON THE PASSING OF THE LAST FIRE HORSE FROM MANHATTAN ISLAND by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE CARPENTER by AMY BRUNER ALMY THE VALLEY OF FERN: PART 1 by BERNARD BARTON |