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Urbs Coronata

(Song for the City College of New York)

O youngest of the giant brood
Of cities far—renowned;
In wealth and power thou hast passed
Thy rivals at a bound;
And now thou art a queen, New York;
And how wilt thou be crowned?
 
“Weave me no palace—wreath of pride,”
The royal city said;
“Nor forge an iron fortress—wall
To frown upon my head;
But let me wear a diadem
Of Wisdom’s towers instead.”
 
And so upon her island height
She worked her will forsooth,
She set upon her rocky brow
A citadel of Truth,
A house of Light, a home of Thought,
A shrine of noble Youth.
 
Stand here, ye City College towers,
And look both up and down;
Remember all who wrought for you
Within the toiling town;
Remember all they thought for you,
And all the hopes they brought for you,
And be the City’s Crown.

Other works by Henry van Dyke...



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