There is no part
of the heart
Of America which
is so nearly
A part of the
heart of me as
The Sky Line.
Sublime, it
reaches
A friendly hand
back through
The annals of
time to the Red
Man
As he and bison
monarch the
plains,
On to a fur
trader singing
his
Merry way; then,
beckons to
settlers
In long wagon
trains.
Today it
Greets the
future with
ease:
"Howdy, Folks.
Shake!
Come let
Us dwell here,
together, in
Peace.
--Virginia Scott
Miner. |
I see a symphony
of color in the
sky,
The after shades
of sunset
Are deepening
into night,
Before
vibrations of
their mighty
tones can die
I see another
melody
Ethereally
bright
Diffusing
glowing notes
throughout the
spectral range.
I see: luminous
structures
Wrought from
rays of light,
A lofty cupola
whose colors
blend and change
In radiant waves
of ruby,
Amber, emerald
and white;
A shaft is
sheathed in
brilliance and
twin towers
glow,
An illuminated
column,
And a constant
stream
Of myriad
under-lights
that fuse in
rhythmic flow.
I think, "The
minds of men
Could never
master any theme
So full of
lovely harmony;
what a pity
It is just the
fragile
Substance of a
shining dream."
Then -- I know
it is the
skyline of my
city!
--Kate Strong. |
