The ragged roof-line of my home;
Yet greyer far my mood than they,
As here amid this spawn of Rome
With tenderness undreamt before
I sigh: ‘Adieu, my native shore!’
“To thee my wistful eyes I strain;
To thee, brave burg, I wave my hand;
Good-bye, oh giddy Tungsten Lane!
Good-bye, oh great Skyscraper Land!
Good-bye, Fifth Avenue so splendid...!!”