New York City has inspired countless writers and because I'm spending a few days here this week, I thought I'd share one of these inspirations. Anna Hempstead Branch wrote much about her beloved city, including this poem, which is also a sonnet, in case you didn't notice. Miss Branch was also known for her abundant charity work and you can read a bit about her here.
New York at Sunrise
by Anna Hempstead Branch (1875-1937)
When with her clouds the early dawn illumes
Our doubtful streets, wistful they grow and mild
As if a sleeping soul grew happy and smiled,
The whole dark city radiantly blooms.
Pale spires lift their hands above the glooms
Like a resurrection, delicately wild,
And flushed with slumber like a little child,
Under a mist, shines forth the innocent Tombs.
Thus have I seen it from a casement high.
As unsubstantial as a dream it grows.
Is this Manhattan, virginal and shy,
That in a cloud so rapturously glows?
Ethereal, frail, and like an opening rose,
I see my city with an enlightened eye.
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