THE PIRATES

I stood once where these rows of deep piazzas

Frown on the harbor from their columned pride,

And saw the gallant youngest of the cities

Lift from the jealous many-fingered tide.

Flanked by the multi-colored sweeping marshes,

Among the little hummocks choked with thorn,

I saw the first, small, dauntless row of buildings

Give back the rose and orange of the dawn.

Above them swayed the shining green palmettoes

Vocal and plaintive at the winds’ caress;

While, at the edge of sight, the fluent silver

Of sea and bay framed the wide loneliness.

Out of the East came gaunt razees of commerce

Troubling the dappled azure of the seas;

While sleeping marsh awoke, and vanished under

The thrusting open fingers of the quays.

Ever, and more, came ships, while others followed.

Feeling their way among unsounded bars,

Heaping their freights upon the groaning wharf-heads,

Filling their holds with turpentines and tars,

Until the little twisting streets all vanished

Into a blur of interwoven spars.