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| BESIDE the shining water, serene she sits in state, | |
| Fronting the noonday splendour, keeping the New World’s gate; | |
| Mother of hope and promise, city of light and dream, | |
| Smiling in beauty’s triumph, changed with each changing gleam; | |
| Beside the shining water, she draws her veil of mist | 5 |
| Over her flashing jewels, opal and amethyst. | |
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| In twilight’s purple vapour, in morning’s rain of gold, | |
| Forever round her island walls the glittering tides are rolled; | |
| And the great sea’s utmost secret, the river’s tenderer song, | |
| Sound through her mingled voices the changeful year along. | 10 |
| Like doves to her bosom flocking, the proud swift ships come home, | |
| Tracking her glassy waters with arabesques of foam; | |
| And to her heart’s strong throbbing a thousand hearts keep time, | |
| Where far across the bay’s clear stretch is borne her silver chime. | |
| Indrawn the sullen shadows from lapping waters creep, | 15 |
| Cold, through the teeming channels where her life’s stream runs deep; | |
| Indrawn, her breath comes faintly, in broken sob and moan, | |
| Slow, through her up-tossed thunders—a secret monotone | |
| Sounding from dark recesses the voice of want and wrong, | |
| Till her mad, sweet, varied music seems but a syren song; | 20 |
| And all her noonday glories, her midnight crown of flame, | |
| Seem but the false regalia of anguish and of shame; | |
| While o’er that aching tumult she draws her veil of mist, | |
| With the mocking gleam of jewels, opal and amethyst. | |
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| Still by the shining water, serene she sits in state, | 25 |
| Fronting the noonday splendour, keeping the New World’s gate; | |
| And still her sun-wrought signals flash from her lifted spires, | |
| And still beneath the lights of heaven she burns her midnight fires, | |
| And the proud, swift ships flock homeward, and hope-drawn hearts beat time, | |
| As far across the bay’s clear stretch is borne her silver chime. | 30 |
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