Songs from Vagabondia — Evening on the Potomac

EVENING ON THE POTOMAC.

The fervid breath of our flushed Southern May Is sweet upon the city's throat and lips, As a lover's whose tired arm slips Listlessly over the shoulder of a queen.

Far away The river melts in the unseen.

Oh, beautiful Girl-City, how she dips Her feet in the stream With a touch that is half a kiss and half a dream!

Her face is very fair, With flowers for smiles and sunlight in her hair.

My westland flower-town, how serene she is!

Here on this hill from which I look at her, All is still as if a worshipper Left at some shrine his offering.

Soft winds kiss My cheek with a slow lingering.

A luring whisper where the laurels stir Wiles my heart back to woodland-ward again.

But lo, Across the sky the sunset couriers run, And I remain To watch the imperial pageant of the Sun Mock me, an impotent Cortez here below, With splendors of its vaster Mexico.

O Eldorado of the templed clouds!

O golden city of the western sky!

Not like the Spaniard would I storm thy gates;

Not like the babe stretch chubby hands and cry