Barham Beach
I.
O CITY, ruined city! Was it lightning s levin-brand
That flashed in fury through thy streets, thy fanes and forum grand,
Or did a prisoned Titan writhe in cataclysmic throe
And shatter all thy rainbow towers and lay thy glory low,
Or was thy fall the rotton fruit of some mad devil s spite
Who helped man s work a hundred years, to spoil it in a night?
Fair city, wretched city ! In that thou wert more fair
Than all thy sisters, so thy wretchedness is past compare,
For Oh ! to see the altar-steps that holy men have trod,
The chiseled marble erst a spire pure pointing up to God,
The groined arch once thrilling to Euterpe s silver tones,
The bench which Themis terror made the kingliest of thrones,
The hearthstone, jewel of the home, the core of fire and food,
All, all inextricable prey of keen vicissitude,
All warped from kindly human use of pleasure and of gain,
A corpse unburied, festering beneath the sun and rain !
hillside, gentle hillside ! Ere America began
To be a nation merrily the fleet red children ran
Athwart thy grassy gilded slopes, or lay in placid rest
Sucking new sustenance from thee, the Mother s generous breast,
