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City of orgies, walks and joys,
City whom that I have lived and sung in your midst will one
day make
Not the pageants of you, not your shifting tableaus, your
spectacles, repay me,
Not the interminable rows of your houses, nor the ships at
the wharves,
Nor the processions in the streets, nor the bright windows
with
goods in them,
Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my share in
the soiree
or feast;
Not those, but as I pass O Manhattan, your frequent and
swift flash
of eyes offering me love,
Offering response to my own--these repay me,
Lovers, continual lovers, only repay me.
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