William M. MacKeracher, Vacation Verse
“ High in mid-air appear and mighty in the mist. Beneath, the River spreads his glist'ning sheen, Spanned by not least of master workmanships, Which sits as conscious daughter of a queen. And here art thou, my city, and thou dip'st Thy towers in the mist, whose magic strips My spirit of the pall Time weaves—in vain; Nor Time nor Disappointment can eclipse Days of young bliss—they must and will remain: Once more a wonder thou, half city of the brain. ”
William M. MacKeracher, Vacation Verse
“ And taints the air where the penal vultures flock, Whose after-weakness welds the fettering chain; Then gods despise and fellow mortals mock. And here return me to the theme I've ta'en, And sing the simple labors of the humble swain. Their voices told they gave me welcome warm, Though oft their faces I can scarcely see, For steam-clouds now atween us rise and swarm, And, rolling upward, find their vent in glee, Like more—alas!—too eager to be free, Who fear to go, yet shudder to remain. ”
William M. MacKeracher, Vacation Verse
“ Still roars the thunder, still the skies are rent With frenzied flame,—the swift electric chain, Jerked clanging backward when its charge is spent. Such overhead; but now upon the plain There is a lull, a listening for the rain. The air grows still; she feels 'twill not be long ”
