He does not frequent joust or tourney,
And flaunt his lady’s colors there;
But in the tedium of a journey,
He shows that deferential care—
That thoughtful kindness to the sex at large,
Which makes each woman feel herself his charge.
He does not challenge foes to duel,
To win his lady’s cast-off glove,
But proves in ways less rash and cruel,
The truth and fervor of his love.
Not by bold deeds, but by his reverent mien,
He pays his public tribute to his Queen.
He may not shine with courtly graces,
But yet, his kind, respectful air
To woman, whatsoe’er her place is,
It might be well if kings could share.
So, for the chivalric true gentleman,
Give me, I say, our own American.
THE CITY.
I OWN the charms of lovely Nature; still,
In human nature more delight I find.
Though sweet the murmuring voices of the rill,
I much prefer the voices of my kind.
I like the roar of cities. In the mart,
Where busy toilers strive for place and gain,
I seem to read humanity’s great heart,
And share its hopes, its pleasures, and its pain.
The rush of hurrying trains that cannot wait,
The tread of myriad feet, all say to me:
“You are the architect of your own fate;
Toil on, hope on, and dare to do and be.”
I like the jangled music of the loud
Bold bells; the whistle’s sudden shrill reply;
And there is inspiration in a crowd—
A magnetism flashed from eye to eye.
My sorrows all seem lightened and my joys
Augmented when the comrade world walks near;
Close to mankind my soul best keeps its poise.
Give me the great town’s bustle, strife, and noise
And let who will, hold Nature’s calm more dear.