Chester Firkins

A CITY walled against the golden day,

A city starless in the silver night,

Hath reared in glory down her teeming bay,

Past many a roaring quay,

Electra’s Temple pinnacled with light.

Fountains ablaze and whirling wheels of fire,

A phantom garden by the rumbling sea;

Not Ctesiphon nor flame-adoring Tyre,

Not Carthage’s red pyre

E’er burned the night to such a brilliancy.

Bright mirrored towers tremble in the wave;

My black prow cleaves through faery citadels;

I gaze upon a deep, enchanted pave,

Some sea-tombed city’s grave,

Whence music ’mid the voice of revel wells.

The ghostly castles crumble; but the cry,

The song, the shouting grow; and far away

Weird echo-voices call me as they fly,

“Come! Join the night city at her play!

Forget the dark of day;

For here the ways of light and laughter lie.”