WHEN with her clouds the early dawn illumes Our doubtful streets, wistful they grow and mild As if a sleeping soul grew happy and smiled, The whole dark city radiantly blooms. Pale spires lift their hands above the glooms Like a resurrection, delicately wild, And flushed with slumber like a little child, Under a mist, shines forth the innocent Tombs. Thus have I seen it from a casement high. As unsubstantial as a dream it grows. Is this Manhattan, virginal and shy, that in a cloud so rapturously glows? Ethereal, frail, and like an opening rose, I see my city with an enlightened eye. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REVELATION by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE LIGHT OF STARS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW CREDO by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON ANOTHER SPRING by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI I HEARD YOUR SOLEMN-SWEET PIPES by WALT WHITMAN THE CLOUDS: SONG [OR CHORUS] OF THE CLOUDS by ARISTOPHANES PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 41. YA HASIB by EDWIN ARNOLD |