CITY of orgies, walks and joys!City whom that I have lived and sung in your midst will one day make you illustrious,Not the pageants of you—not your shifting tableaux, your spectacles, repay me;Not the interminable rows of your houses—nor the ships at the wharves,Nor the processions in the streets, nor the bright win- dows, with goods in them;Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my share in the soiree or feast;Not those—but, as I pass, O Manhattan! your frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love,Offering response to my own—these repay me;Lovers, continual lovers, only repay me.