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Henry Van Dyke - Urbs Coronata
Work rating: Low

(Song for the City College of New York) 

O youngest of the giant brood 
     Of cities far-renowned;
In wealth and power thou hast passed
     Thy rivals at a bound;
And now thou art a queen, New York;
     And how wilt thou be crowned? 

"Weave me no palace-wreath of pride,"
     The royal city said;
"Nor forge an iron fortress-wall
     To frown upon my head;
But let me wear a diadem
     Of Wisdom`s towers instead." 

And so upon her island height
     She worked her will forsooth,
She set upon her rocky brow
     A citadel of Truth,
A house of Light, a home of Thought,
     A shrine of noble Youth. 

Stand here, ye City College towers,
     And look both up and down; 
Remember all who wrought for you
     Within the toiling town; 
Remember all they thought for you, 
And all the hopes they brought for you,
     And be the City`s Crown.
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