Songs from Vagabondia

<h3><SPAN name="EVENING_ON_THE_POTOMAC" name="EVENING_ON_THE_POTOMAC"></SPAN>EVENING ON THE POTOMAC.</h3> <p>The fervid breath of our flushed Southern May <br/>Is sweet upon the city's throat and lips, <br/>As a lover's whose tired arm slips <br/>Listlessly over the shoulder of a queen. <br/> <br/>Far away <br/>The river melts in the unseen. <br/>Oh, beautiful Girl-City, how she dips <br/>Her feet in the stream <br/>With a touch that is half a kiss and half a dream! <br/>Her face is very fair, <br/>With flowers for smiles and sunlight in her hair. <br/> <br/>My westland flower-town, how serene she is! <br/>Here on this hill from which I look at her, <br/>All is still as if a worshipper <br/>Left at some shrine his offering. <br/> <br/>Soft winds kiss <br/>My cheek with a slow lingering. <br/>A luring whisper where the laurels stir <br/>Wiles my heart back to woodland-ward again. <br/> <br/>But lo, <br/>Across the sky the sunset couriers run, <br/>And I remain <br/>To watch the imperial pageant of the Sun <br/>Mock me, an impotent Cortez here below, <br/>With splendors of its vaster Mexico. <br/> <br/>O Eldorado of the templed clouds! <br/>O golden city of the western sky! <br/>Not like the Spaniard would I storm thy gates; <br/>Not like the babe stretch chubby hands and cry <br/> <br/>To have thee for a toy; but far from crowds, <br/>Like my Faun brother in the ferny glen, <br/>Peer from the wood's edge while thy glory waits, <br/>And in the darkening thickets plunge again.</p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />