Children of the Night

Boston

     My northern pines are good enough for me,
     But there's a town my memory uprears —
     A town that always like a friend appears,
     And always in the sunrise by the sea.
     And over it, somehow, there seems to be
     A downward flash of something new and fierce,
     That ever strives to clear, but never clears
     The dimness of a charmed antiquity.