But 'tisn't an easy perpetrated scheme To prophesy how anything will seem. This city's new to me--I do not doubt it-- As if I'd never heard a word about it! There's something in these white-clothed buildings' glare, And something even in the very air, And in the great variety of faces, Bearing the ear-marks of a thousand places, And in that monument that reaches high-- The farthest stone has climbed into the sky, And in that dome, whose kingly size and height Contrive, where'er you are, to keep in sight-- From these, and several hundred other things This nation's lead-horse city at you flings, You feel as if you'd stepped, through many a mile, Into another planet for a while! But men too weary to hold up their heads Are apt to bless the man[7] who first made beds; Then, having found one, and reclined within it, Forget about him in just half a minute. So I'll let Morpheus (who is at me winking) Do the remainder of this evening's thinking. [7] Or woman--let due praise to her be paid; A bed is never made until 'tis _made_. [_From Arthur Selwyn's Note-book._] AT THE SUMMIT OF THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT. Look North! A white-clad city fills This valley to its sloping hills; Here gleams the modest house of white, The statesman's longed-for, dizzy height. Beyond, a pledge of love to one Who in two lands was Freedom's son-- The holder of an endless debt-- Our nation's brother, Lafayette. But yonder lines of costly homes And bristling spires and swelling domes, And far away the spreading farms Where thrift displays substantial charms, And hamlets creeping out of sight, And cities full of wealth and might, Must own the fatherhood of him Whose glory Time can never dim. All who can reckon Freedom's worth Would write across this whole broad earth, With pen dipped in the golden sun, The magic name of Washington! If we can keep the rules he gave This land he more than fought to save, Our future fame will glisten forth Grand as the winter-lighted North! * * * * * [Illustration: FROM THE MONUMENT.]