Urbs Coronata

(Song for the City College of New York)

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

"Weave me no palace-wreath of Pride," The royal city said; "Nor forge of frowning fortress-walls A helmet for my head; But let me wear a diadem Of Wisdom's towers instead."

She bowed herself, she spent herself, She wrought her will forsooth, And set upon her island height 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 their hopes for you, And be the City's Crown.

June, 1908.