I forget that they’re nothing worth;
That Bohemians, Slovaks, Croatians,
And men of all Slavik nations
Are “polacks”—and “scum o’ the earth.”
III
Genoese boy of the level brow,
Lad of the lustrous, dreamy eyes
Astare at Manhattan’s pinnacles now
In the first, sweet shock of a hushed surprise;
Within your far-rapt seer’s eyes