WHITE wing'd below the darkling clouds The driven sea-gulls wheel;
The roused sea flings a storm against The towers of stone and steel.
The very voice of ocean rings Along the shaken street--Dusk, storm, and beauty whelm the world Where sea and city meet--But what care they for flashing wings, Quick beauty, loud refrain, These huddled thousands, deaf and blind To all but greed and gain?
