Sea-Gulls of Manhattan

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Children of the elemental mother,
  Born upon some lonely island shore
Where the wrinkled ripples run and whisper,
 Where the crested billows plunge and roar;
Long-winged, tireless roamers and adventurers,
  Fearless breasters of the wind and sea,
In the far-off solitary places
  I have seen you floating wild and free!

Here the high-built cities rise around you;
 Here the cliffs that tower east and west,
Honeycombed with human habitations,
  Have no hiding for the sea-bird's nest:
Here the river flows begrimed and troubled;
 Here the hurrying, panting vessels fume,
Restless, up and down the watery highway,
  While a thousand chimneys vomit gloom.

Toil and tumult, conflict and confusion,
  Clank and clamor of the vast machine
Human hands have built for human bondage -
  Yet amid it all you float serene;
Circling, soaring, sailing, swooping lightly
  Down to glean your harvest from the wave;
In your heritage of air and water,
  You have kept the freedom Nature gave.

Even so the wild-woods of Manhattan
  Saw your wheeling flocks of white and grey;
Even so you fluttered, followed, floated,
  Round the Half-Moon creeping up the bay;
Even so your voices creaked and chattered,
  Laughing shrilly o'er the tidal rips,
While your black and beady eyes were glistening
  Round the sullen British prison-ships.

Children of the elemental mother,
  Fearless floaters 'mid the double blue,
From the crowded boats that cross the ferries
  Many a longing heart goes out to you.
Though the cities climb and close around us,
  Something tells us that our souls are free,
While the sea-gulls fly above the harbor,
  While the river flows to meet the sea!

© Henry Van Dyke