N.Y. by Ezra Pound
MY City, my beloved, my white!
Listen! Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul.
Delicately upon the reed, attend me
Now do I know that I am mad,
For here are a million people surly with traffic;
This is no maid.
Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.
My city, my beloved,
Thou art a maid with no breasts,
Thou art slender as a silver reed.
Listen to me, attend me!
And I will breathe into thee a soul.
And thou shalt live for ever.