From the North

From Free media library

<Rivers to the Sea (Collection)

THE northern woods are delicately sweet,
      The lake is folded softly by the shore,
      But I am restless for the subway's roar,
The thunder and the hurrying of feet.
I try to sleep, but still my eyelids beat
      Against the image of the tower that bore
      Me high aloft, as if thru heaven's door
I watched the world from God's unshaken seat.
I would go back and breathe with quickened sense
      The tunnel's strong hot breath of powdered steel;
But at the ferries I should leave the tense
        Dark air behind, and I should mount and be
      One among many who are thrilled to feel
        The first keen sea-breath from the open sea.