STRAIT river, with its hoarse and feverous flood Of money-makers; on that turbulent tide Hourly men sink, or bring their argosies To unhoped havens. On that tiny stage The day-dream of the dollar is played out In tragic throes that shake the land; there gold Is God, the devotees are hollow-eyed. A touch brings London; at a mystic word The tropics tremble; while an unpraised hand Withers broad grain-fields lovely in the sun A thousand leagues away. Meanwhile, the spire Of Trinity, as set in satire there, Points with insistent finger to the skies Placid above this lust of loss-and-gain, And underneath, the aisles of peace and prayer Await the worshipers who still would place Christ above Mammon, love before the world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE ORIGIN OF EVIL by JOHN BYROM THE VALLEY'S SINGING DAY by ROBERT FROST MIDWINTER BLUES by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES THE MARYLAND BATTALION [AUGUST 27, 1776] by JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER SONNET: 20. A FAREWELL by PHILIP SIDNEY HARMONIES OF THE EVENING by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |