My City

Mannahatta

by Walt Whitman


I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city,
Whereupon lo! upsprang the aboriginal name.

Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane,
unruly, musical, self-sufficient,

I see that the word of my city is that word from of old,
Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays,
superb,

Rich, hemm'd thick all around with sailships and
steamships, an island sixteen miles long, solid-founded,

Numberless crowded streets, high growths of iron, slender,
strong, light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies,

Tides swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown,

The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining
islands, the heights, the villas,

The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the lighters,
the ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers well-model'd,

The down-town streets, the jobbers' houses of business, the
houses of business of the ship-merchants and money-
brokers, the river-streets,

Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a week,

The carts hauling goods, the manly race of drivers of horses,
the brown-faced sailors,

The summer air, the bright sun shining, and the sailing
clouds aloft,

The winter snows, the sleigh-bells, the broken ice in the
river, passing along up or down with the flood-tide or
ebb-tide,

The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-form'd,
beautiful-faced, looking you straight in the eyes,

Trottoirs throng'd, vehicles, Broadway, the women, the
shops and shows,

A million people--manners free and superb--open voices--
hospitality--the most courageous and friendly young
men,

City of hurried and sparkling waters! city of spires and masts!

City nested in bays! my city!