Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ed. The Book of New York Verse. 1917.
On Cedar Street, New YorkHelen Hay Whitney
I,
In the days when earth was new,
Joyous leafy ancestry
Known of twilight and of dew,
Now within this iron wall
Slave of tasks that irk the soul,
To my parents send one call—
That they give me of their dole.
Grimy noise of work-a-day,
Secretly a voice, half drowned,
Whispers thro’ the evening’s grey,
“Child, we know the path you tread,
Ghost and manes, we are true:
Cedar spirits, long since dead,
Calm and sweet abide with you.”