| Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ed. The Book of New York Verse. 1917. | | | | New York Harbor | | By Park Benjamin |
| | | | Written in view of the harbor of New York on the loveliest and calmest of the last days of autumn. |
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IS this a painting? Are those pictured clouds | |
| Which on the sky so movelessly repose? | |
| Has some rare artist fashioned forth the shrouds | |
| Of yonder vessel? Are these imaged shows | |
| Of outline, figure, form, or is there life— | 5 |
| Life with a thousand pulses—in the scene | |
| We gaze upon, those towering banks between, | |
| Ere tossed these billows in tumultuous strife? | |
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| Billows! there’s not a wave! the waters spread | |
| One broad, unbroken mirror! all around | 10 |
| Is hushed to silence,—silence so profound | |
| That a bird’s carol, or an arrow sped | |
| Into the distance, would, like larum bell, | |
| Jar the deep stillness and dissolve the spell! | | | |
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