Sunday Poem

That Dear Coney Island by Chester Perkins

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.”

from Bartleby

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