N. Y

My City, my beloved, my white! Ah, slender, Listen! Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul. Delicately upon the reed, attend me! Now do I know that I am mad, For here are a million people surly with traffic; This is no maid. Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one. My City, my beloved, Thou art a maid with no breasts, Thou art slender as a silver reed. Listen to me, attend me! And I will breathe into thee a soul, And thou shalt live for ever.