Harvey Maitland Watts

The Pennsylvania Railroad Station, New York

WHAT Rome in sheer abandonment of pride

Flung free on high for Purple Ease a lair,

Fretted with gold, a-gleam with spoils most rare,

Here, to a nobler use soars purified.

While from its silent depths controllèd glide

The slaving monsters as the people fare—

Of all things past the free, resplendent heir—

Holding the earth in leash with naught untried.

Lo! ’neath these vaultings how oblivion sweeps

The older portals! What the Golden Horn?

Or Venice, dreaming where soft waters swoon?

Or Atlas towering o’er grey ocean’s deep?

Here, where this titan gateway greets the morn

Glad millions press to life’s exultant noon!