Here in The City I ponder, Through its long pathways I wander. These are the spires that were gleaming All through my juvenile dreaming. This is The Something I heard, far away, When, at the close of a tired Summer day, Resting from work on the lap of a lawn, Gazing to whither The Sun-god had gone, Leaving behind him his mantles of gold-- This is The Something by which I was told; "Bend your head, dreamer, and listen-- Come to my splendors that glisten! Either to triumph they call you, Or to what worst could befall you!" This is The Something that thrilled my desires, When the weird Morning had kindled his fires, And the gray city of clouds in the east Lighted its streets as for pageant or feast, Whisp'ring--my spirit elating-- "Come to me, boy, I am waiting! Bring me your muscle and spirit and brain-- Here to my glory-strewn, ruin-strewn plain!" Treading the trough of the furrow, Digging where life-rootlets burrow, Blade of the food-harvest swinging, In the barns toiling and singing, Breath of a hay-meadow smelling, Forest-trees loving and felling-- Where'er my spirit was turning, Lived that mysterious yearning! When in the old country school-house I conned Legends of life in the broad world beyond-- When in the trim hamlet-college I cast Wondering glances at days that were past-- Ever I longed for the walls and the streets, And the rich conflict that energy meets! * * * * * So I have come: but The City is great Bearing me down like a brute with its weight. So I have come: but The City is cold, And I am lonelier now than of old. * * * * *