Beneath her haloed crest of steel and stone, Whose gleaming turrets hurl the night aside, The city never sleeps. Till dawn her wide Unbending ways give back a monotone -- The weary plod of men who walk alone. She asks no questions, sparing thus their pride; What have they else whose lives are crucified? What else? -- At night the city is their own. A day shall dawn -- that newer day -- not made By spinning globe on gravitation's chain. A sun shall rise which is not doomed to set Behind the city's towers; nor brightness fade ... And bondmen, freed, shall walk in their domain, And there shall be no fear and no regret. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GHOSTS OF THE OLD YEAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE GARDEN OF ADONIS by EMMA LAZARUS LEAVING THE HARBOR by LOUIS UNTERMEYER DAY: MORNING by JOHN CUNNINGHAM BROTHERS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO MY MERE ENGLISH CENSURER by BEN JONSON ST. ISAAC'S CHURCH, PETROGRAD by CLAUDE MCKAY |