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[137] If, in the thronged and noisy mart,
     The Muses found their son,
Could any say his tuneful art
     A duty left undone?

He toiled and sang; and year by year
     Men found their homes more sweet,
And through a tenderer atmosphere
     Looked down the brick-walled street.

The Greek's wild onset Wall Street knew;
     The Red King walked Broadway;
And Alnwick Castle's roses blew
     From Palisades to Bay.

Fair City by the Sea! upraise
     His veil with reverent hands;
And mingle with thy own the praise
     And pride of other lands.

Let Greece his fiery lyric breathe
     Above her hero-urns;
And Scotland, with her holly, wreathe
     The flower he culled for Burns.

Oh, stately stand thy palace walls,
     Thy tall ships ride the seas;
To-day thy poet's name recalls
     A prouder thought than these.

Not less thy pulse of trade shall beat,
     Nor less thy tall fleets swim,
That shaded square and dusty street
     Are classic ground through him.

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