They count their ships full tale-
Their corn and oil and wine,
Derrick and loom and bale,

And rampart's gun-flecked line;
City by city they hail :

66

'Hast aught to match with mine ?"

And the men that breed from them

They traffic up and down,

But cling to their cities' hem

As a child to the mother's gown.

When they talk with the stranger bands, Dazed and newly alone;

When they walk in the stranger lands, By roaring streets unknown;

Blessing her where she stands

For strength above their own.

(On high to hold her fame

That stands all fame beyond,

By oath to back the same,

Most faithful-foolish-fond;

Making her mere-breathed name
Their bond upon their bond.)

So thank I God my birth
Fell not in isles aside-
Waste headlands of the earth,
Or warring tribes untried-

But that she lent me worth
And gave me right to pride.

Surely in toil or fray

Under an alien sky,

Comfort it is to say:

"Of no mean city am I."

(Neither by service nor fee Come I to mine estateMother of Cities to me,

For I was born in her gate, Between the palms and the sea, Where the world-end steamers wait.)

Now for this debt I owe,

And for her far-borne cheer

Must I make haste and go

With tribute to her pier.

And she shall touch and remit
After the use of kings
(Orderly, ancient, fit)

My deep-sea plunderings,
And purchase in all lands.
And this we do for a sign

Her power is over mine,

And mine I hold at her hands.