Some say that it is ugly and hurry on through,
But I love these impressive symbols
Of man’s ingenuity.
Here are the great grain elevators, looming
In tones and shades of grey, veiled
In the clouds of black smoke from the
Tugs at their feet;
Puffing engines shifting strings of cars,
And huge ships nosed in against each other
Or riding at anchor, and canal boats
In straight lines at the docks.
Farther on, across a slip, there are
Mountains of ore in reds and brown,
And pile upon pile of gravel and slag,
And sand in soft saffron hues,
Heaped up for the steel mills to devour;
Those gigantic mills whose tall stacks
Belch varicolored gases, against
The deep blue of the inner harbor,
Where the waves pound in
Over the sea wall.
All this cupped by the towering
City skyscrapers, and outlined against
The peaceful Eden hills,
Miles to the south.
And when I wait for the big bridge to lift
For a freighter with its important tugs,
I pull out of line, off to the side,
And let the other cars go by,
And look, and look.
I never seem to get enough.