Height-mad and power-glad
Pinnacled, domed, crenelated,
Masonry clambering course upon course,
To a glory of skyline serrated,
Lofty and meet
For the worship of all the waves laving thy feet.
Mighty, ay mighty Manhattan,
Grown, while Time counted but three arrow flights,
From bare strand and woodland and slow rising knoll—
A handful of redmen encamped on thy heights—